


galaxies will come to be

by sentimatra



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Female Character of Color, Clarke just wants to HELP EVERYONE, F/F, Fluff, Gen, High School AU, I Don't Even Know, Modern AU, Pining, Princess Mechanic, Raven's a comic nerd and loves space, Slow Burn, clarke/raven - Freeform, clarkven, the only death i use from canon is clarke's dad everyone else is alive, this starts very briefly in the summer b4 they go to highschool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7505803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentimatra/pseuds/sentimatra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>if i am heavy enough with the thought of you will I combust?<br/>-will it be anger<br/>--or love, boiled over </p><p>i wonder.</p><p>(Princess Mechanic HSAU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. then you decided that purple just wasn’t for you

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha hello I return from not updating my laurela fic to give u princess mechanic. 
> 
> Their dynamic was really interesting in canon and was a relationship I wanted to see explored more before Lexa showed up but I don't watch the show anymore for reasons you can guess. I also am not a big Clexa shipper (i don't hate it) so uhhh--here's this.
> 
> Raven is a smol angry space nerd and Clarke is a medical science nerd w/her own issues that arise...later. I guess what this fic revolves around in their relationship early on is miscommunication/misconceptions and lack of communication. or something. I'm v rusty @ this, 4give me. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated!

The first time you see her--REALLY see her up close, she's dragging her bike slowly past your house and her nose is bleeding. 

You spot her dingy red jacket from your window upstairs and are a bit hesitant because both your mother and father aren't home and at thirteen, you've never felt the need to go past your parent's rule of not letting strangers in. 

But. 

This girl looks to be your age so it has to be okay.

When you rush down and open your door to call out to her, you can see her body stiffen even from far away. She turns her head slowly to you and your first thought is that she's sort of mousy--the jacket a couple of sizes too big for her gangly limbs; doe-eyed with an almond shaped face. She's Latina with dark brown hair and skin the color of your mother's coffee (two creams, two sugars).

Though when she opens her mouth she's not as sweet.

"Th' _fuck_ do you want, Princess," she all but spits, leaning onto her bike. You can see that the back tire is deflated, similar to her posture. She's trying to look intimidating but all she looks is tired.

You frown, bite the inside of your lip. "Well, your nose is bleeding and your tire's deflated. I have a first aid kit and a tire repair kit."

"I don't need your charity."

You sigh and fix your hands on your hips. "It isn't charity." The girl turns around and stubbornly resumes dragging her bike very slowly towards the hill behind your house. "So that's it then? You're just gonna drag your banged up bike with a head injury all the way back home?" No response. "How far away do you even _live_?"

"It's none of your business."

She struggles slowly for a minute more before you huff, annoyed. 

"Okay, fine. I'm going inside then. If you don't come inside in the next five minutes, I'm locking the door." 

You take a seat in the kitchen once you've pulled out the first aid and your father's bike repair kit.She shuffles in maybe around the last minute or so, meeting your eyes once sullenly.

"I knew you'd see it my way," you smile.

 

She doesn't answer too many of your questions as you wipe up her nose and tend to a cut on the side of her face, her eyes darting everywhere else to avoid yours and the awkwardness she must feel at your proximity. You, however, notice the NASA patch stitched the front breast of her jacket, blue and purple with the acronym in white. The bag she dropped to the floor near her bike has a pin attached to it of a comic hero but you can't tell which one without getting up to look closer.

The girl eyes the glass of water you give her after you patch her up like you might've poisoned it.

"Really," you deadpan.

She ends up drinking it, though she still eyes you with all the skepticism of a stray dog.

The bike is an easier matter that she takes care of herself when you give her the tools, her fingers quick and her movements slightly less sluggish than before. There's a purplish bruise that flashes at you when her shirt lifts on her lower torso as she reaches for one of the pieces to put the wheel back on. You can't help yourself when the question falls out.

"What happened there?" you point. "On your waist."

The girl tenses like when you called out to her. "I...fell."

"On what?"

She glances at you, expression closed off before turning back to her bike now fixed. "I should go." She stands and rolls her bike to your door, but turns back to you slowly, staring at a point on the tile near your feet. "Thanks. I guess."

You scoff. "You're welcome, I _guess_."

She rolls her eyes at you but says nothing more, getting back onto her bike and pedaling off towards the forest up the hill behind your house. You watch her until she disappears over it, red jacket rightly contrasted against the green of the trees.

You see her again a week later when your Dad pulls into the driveway from work and you run to greet him. The girl slows her bike maybe a fraction in curiosity, dark eyes peering out from her hair which you notice, with a jolt, is down and long, but she jerks her gaze away when it meets yours, dingy red jacket a blur, red converse sneakers pushing the bike up the hill again.

"Does she go to your school?" your father asks.

You shake your head. If she did you'd know; your middle school is pretty small. You fib a little by not telling him everything about when you patched her up. "I've talked to her--she came through here once before."

Your father nods knowingly. He smiles, laughs. "I was _wondering_ why my bike repair kit had migrated to the kitchen."

"You aren't mad?"

"Of course not honey--just let us know next time. Maybe if we’re expecting her again, we can give her a ride home."

Remembering how the girl acted, you frown. 

"If she accepts it, you mean " you mumble.

Your dad sighs. "Some people aren't as openly trusting of others for reasons you should respect. You can't force help on people, honey."

You shrug and walk back inside, not quite understanding but having no rebuttal.

 

The last time you see her is the middle of June; you're sitting on your porch after-school unwrapping a twin-stick grape popsicle. 

She's pedaling a little slower now in the heat and her hair is pulled back into a long ponytail but she’s _still_ wearing her red jacket. In 80 degree weather.

"Aren't you hot?" you call out to her.

She stops the bike and glares as if she isn't sure what to think of your concern. You aren't fazed by it, breaking the twin pop in two and waving one at her from the steps.

"It'th noth poison. Promith," you say around the popsicle you shoved in your mouth.

She rolls her eyes and steps forward after dismounting her bike, taking the offered popsicle gingerly, making sure your fingers brush the barest amount with hers. She kicks out the stand to her bike in order to lean back against it as she eats.

It's silent in a way that you don't really know how to fill, the crickets doing the bare minimum of that. A dog barks in the distance and you know it might be Bellamy and Octavia's, that he might be coming this way soon. A welcome breeze picks up and tosses the end of the girl's ponytail gently. 

Brushing your hair out of your face, you take a chance and break the silence. "What high school are you going to?" She has to be an eighth grader like you from the looks of her. 

What might be a smile twitches at the corner of her lips for second before she deflects the question--as you expected. "What high school are YOU going to?"

"I asked first," you pout.

She raises one eyebrow, and turns her attention to the juice dripping down her wrist. It's licked up in lieu of a napkin and you grimace. 

"I'm going to Ark," you supply, hoping for a 'me too' at least.

"Ark?" she repeats, holding the purple-stained popsicle stick between her teeth, lips stained the same. She hmmm’s and puts the kickstand on her bike back up, mounting it again. 

"Yes. You still haven't said which one you're going to."

The girl shrugs, the fabric of her red jacket swishing as she does. "I never said I was going at all."

Before you can reply, you hear Bellamy's dog bark, closer now. Octavia and him are coming down from their house up the street. 

"Thanks for the ice pop, Princess," the girl says as she pedals past you. 

You watch her disappear over the crest of the hill one more time before you turn to be assaulted by fur. Bellamy's black lab puppy "Victor" washes the side of your face with slobber, and you push him gently away.

"Who was that?" Octavia asks when she gets close enough. She’s worn braces since you’ve known her back in kindergarten. She talks more than Bellamy and Bellamy says more than one word when Octavia’s around as a buffer. The siblings are both soft in mannerism, Bellamy only ever raising his voice in defense of Octavia at school.

You shrug. "A friend. From another school." You make it simple--even if your mouth tingles with the half-fib. They let it go, and you let them inside.

-

You don't think about her again until you're flipping through channels that night and catch the end of a program reviewing the _Hubble Space Telescope_ 's photos. One that flashes is from 1995--two years after you were born. 

The narrator calls the glowing structures in the photo the "Pillars of Creation"; three deep orange-green gooey clouds of matter. 

You notice that to the right of the leftmost pillar is a star that glints a sharp pinkish purple.

You sink deeper into the couch and change the channel when the narrator starts talking about how impossibly unreachable the Eagle Nebula is.

 

 

 

 


	2. through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School's out for summer and Raven ends up with significantly better "vacation" plans.  
> (chapter title is a stanza from a Pablo Neruda poem)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for any errors in this--my eyes just kinda blurred everything together on the fifth read through so I decided to just post it. The Raven/Finn in here is broTP stuff--essentially to give you a taste of where Raven lives, the people she knows, etc. 
> 
> Raven and Clarke won't meet face-to-face again till they get to high school which is in probably two chapters or so--but they will see some other familiar faces beforehand that will be tagged upon their arrival. 
> 
> *Another note--any assumptions you've made about Raven's home life from the first chapter might be worse than how they are revealed to be in this chapter. Raven suffers enough in canon so here it's a bit more of just "unfortunate circumstances". There's like a flashback of a slap to the face which is as "graphic" as it gets.
> 
> -  
> also, playing copy-paste boomerang with different drafts just to retain script formatting is NOT fun so some italics/bolding/accents might be missing here.

_**Corvus corax** \- the northern raven; part of the crow family but slightly larger-- one of the smartest animals you'll find on Earth._

Raven admits she sort of grins when she sees the fact noted in the general encyclopedia her Tio sent her. A painting of a raven sits at the top of a page, one wing spread out while the other is folded against its side. She traces its feathers with soft reverence.

The pages are glossy, unlike the notebook paper that she copies facts onto from library books (there's a milk crate of manila envelopes filled with notebook paper under her bed, sorted by subject-- the thickest folders being the ones related to science and astrology). She'd long since accepted that her mother would only ever buy food for her--maybe toss a 20 dollar bill at her for school clothes if Raven bugged her enough. 

_**Corvus (constellation)** \- found in the Southern Celestial Hemisphere; depicts a raven that has been associated with the god Apollo and perched on the back of Hydra. Gamma Corvi (a blue giant) is the brightest star in the constellation. _

A loud thump and muffled bickering interrupts Raven's skimming. She sighs and sticks a piece of paper inside the book to hold her place. Her mother's room is down the hall from hers so Raven often hears the bits and ends of arguments she has with her boyfriends.

Boyfriend Number Five (?) is named "Paulo". He's where she got the bruise on her lower back from, hip checking her too roughly against the stairs' banister while making his way up to her mother's room, playing at being nice but otherwise ignoring her.

A past boyfriend that reeked of cigarette smoke (and was later arrested on possession charges) would always remark with a sneer that Raven was "too smart". That was worse than being ignored. 

Raven would sneer back and envision punching him square in the jaw--never carrying it out because the one time she'd raised her voice at one of her mom's boyfriends ( the third probably) he'd slapped her so hard across the face she saw white, faintly catching him growling something about 'respect for elders'.

He didn't come around again after that, her mother oddly silent and staying in her room, giving guilty glances to the welt on Raven's right cheek but saying nothing in apology. The only salve being that her mother waited at least a month before bringing in Boyfriend Number Four.

Raven tries to think back to a time when her mom was warmer and more of a mom and she can only come up with one time when they'd gone to the park. Raven was five or six maybe--and she'd asked why her mother named her the way she did. 

Her mother had squinted down at her, mentally digging for something that would sate the five year old. "Well, uh. You came out of me with a full head of short dark curly hair," she cards her fingers through Raven's bangs , "and curious little eyes, so I thought 'Raven' would be a pretty thing to call you."

Over the years, it became apparent that her mother never liked to dwell on deeper things, only concerned with the here and now. She was....shallow, it pained Raven little to say. With Raven's father God-knew-where and Raven's mother being a single mom, Raven could understand from a distance, as if it weren't her "family", why her mom was the way she was now. 

She just didn't understand why it had to be her mother. 

At another thump, Raven goes down the stairs and to the kitchen counter for mail. She hops up and sifts through bills, credit card offers, more bills until she sees something scrawled in her Tio's script. 

It's a letter for her. 

She grins and tears it open carefully. Her Tio is on her father's side of the family, the only person from that side that deigns to still contact Raven, her mother proving a dampening point of interference for any warmth or well-being from family members on both sides. 

Her Tio writes about the town and his farm ( he lives upstate, out in the mountains) and he asks how she's doing. He asks about her mother, even though he knows and she knows she'll only ever answer with a "she's fine," no matter how much he prys about the woman. That's all Raven has to give. She won't say "Ma has a revolving door of boyfriends that are each more piss-drunk and smelling like coño than the last". 

That would be...disrespectful. 

The letter ends with a question that makes Raven's heart skip a beat--

_I know school's probably ended for you so I was wondering if you'd like to come up and visit for the summer? I can come down to pick you up since I know your mother is occupied with other things-- Raven scoffs --You have my number, so just give me a call and let me know what you think, alright?_

_Love,_

_Tío Miguel_

Raven grins--even though she wasn't fond of the insects, her uncle's farm the perfect place for stargazing. If she went she might even catch Mercury--that is, IF stays up into the early morning.

Her mother shuffles into the kitchen as Raven's grinning down at the letter unaware. Her robe is sloppily tied, her hair a mess. The dark circles under eyes seem burnt there, makeup doing a shitty job of covering her weariness.

"What are you smiling about?" her mother grumbles, snatching the letter from Raven's hands before Raven can react to her presence. "And get down from there, the counter's for food, not your butt that's been God-knows-where."

Raven huffs as she slides off the counter. "S'not like you cook enough for us to even use the counters," she mutters under her breath.

Her mother looks up sharply at her. "What was that?"

Raven sucks in a breath through her teeth, directing her gaze at the envelope in her hands. "Nothing."

Her mother eyes her for a second longer before looking back down at the letter, reading quickly. Her face moves through a myraid of variations of distaste before tossing the letter on the counter. Raven scoops it up and folds it with care back into the envelope then turns back to her mother, who's pouring herself a glass of water. 

"So? Can I go?"

Her mother's brow furrows and she sets the glass down on the counter. She looks like she's going to say no, like it's on the tip of her tongue but when Raven pouts, putting on her best puppy dog look, her mother sighs.

"Whatever. I guess it's better than you being here all summer. Maybe he'll put you to work on the farm, get you to look up from your books for once." She shuffles away and back up the stairs, mumbling something about "Miguel's meddling."

Raven smiles with the excitement filling her chest, then frowns at the jab at her books. She stares back down at her name, in black ink, tracing it like she did the raven's wing in her encyclopedia. 

"I look up all the time."

 

 

Tio Miguel says he'll come down Monday next week in his truck. He asks her again how her mother is doing and Raven sighs.

"She's doing fine. She'll be just as fine without me for the summer."

"Now, _mija_ , don't speak that way about your mother. You know she...tries."

Raven laughs humorlessly but says nothing in rebuttal, not wanting to get into an argument. Her shoulders un-tense when he changes the subject, telling her to pack enough clothes for awhile, the arrangement being for her to stay until school starts back up. 

That results in Raven packing everything she has aside from a change of clothes for the upcoming weekend before Monday and her bomber jacket.

She puts that on and sits quiet for awhile, listening for sounds that indicated her mother was awake. When she hears nothing, she ducks down to the short bookshelf next to her bed, pulling out the issue of Captain Marvel (Monica Rambeau) she'd just finished reading and sliding it into her backpack. She slowly opened her window to reach out to the thick gnarled branch that just reached the bottom of her windowsill. She closes the window quietly and scampers down tree, feet finding familiar footholds.

The air isn't as soupy at night as it is in the morning, flowing past her with every push of her bike pedal. There are two cars that pass her slowly in the other direction as she rides out of the cul-de-sac--past the porch of the house that burnt down and up near the hill she had to ride over to get to school that past semester. She slows as she reaches it, able to see the lights of the familiar quaint two-story white house shining into the backyard. 

She knew the Griffin family lived there from having seen Dr. Griffin around the hospital the few times she's had to go. The white girl that lived there was too friendly--too touchy, Raven thinks with a blush and a shake of her head as she wheeled her bike in the opposite direction. 

Ark High School was located at least a mile further than Raven's middle school. It was a sort of private school in that she'd had to take a test to get in. She'd doubted that she'd make it but her acceptance letter had come at least two weeks after taking the entrance test. She'd have to either get up super early to bike to school....or ride her bike to the Griffin's neighborhood and catch the school bus from there. But what was she supposed to do with her bike if she couldn't take it on the bus? 

Raven groaned. She'd worry about it later. 

She rode a short distance up Davis Highway before taking a right off of it and into the trailer park area near the junkyard. She locked her bike to a post behind a bush before running up to the back of a light blue trailer house and knocking twice on the right-most window.

She heard a rustling, and then was greeted by Finn's dark mop of hair. He shimmied out the window and landed lightly, boots making a faint thump in the grass.

"Hey," he whispered, a little confused, brushing his hair out of his face with a grin. "It's dangerous for you to be out this late."

Raven rolled her eyes and pulled the Captain Marvel issue he lent her out of her bag. "I'm leaving Monday so I wanted to give you this before I forget. Or if my mom suddenly decides I'm not allowed to go out this weekend. "

"Leaving? Where?" He takes the comic book back, reaching up and setting it on his windowsill.

"Upstate to my uncle's farm. For the rest of the summer."

Finn pouts. "Take me with you?"

"Finn."

"I can fit in a suitcase if I crouch down --maybe if I cut off my feet--?"

"FINN," Raven hisses.

He laughs quietly. "Just jokin'. So I guess this is goodbye...till whenever?"

"I have your number you dummy. I'll call you when I get there."

"Right." He smiles a bit sadly, as if he's made up in his mind that Raven won't call. Raven shoves him.

"Don't get all misty-eyed. Like I said. I'll call. Promise." She holds out a hand.

He grasps it after a beat in their handshake and his smile is less droopy. His eyes spark with an idea and he turns back to his window, climbing up and tossing a, "Wait here," over his shoulder.

He comes back out and shoves a book into Raven's hands, the same dimensions as a normal comic but much thicker--one of his valued trade paperbacks.

"Summer reading," he grins sheepishly. "I think you'll like it a lot. This iteration is much better than the original and it's not too often that I say that--"

"Wh- this? You want me to take one of your trade paperback novels....to a farm?"

Finn nods slowly, as if Raven was the one who was being slow about this. 

"But it'll get dirty--!"

"No it won't. I trust you."

Raven gapes, stubbornly wanting to say no but when they hear a thump in Finn's trailer house, she groans and hurriedly puts it in her bag. One of his parents are awake.

"Talk to you soon," Finn says, spreading his arms for a hug.

Ordinarily, Raven shies away from contact but she makes an exception for Finn, ducking her chin over his shoulder and wrapping an arm quickly around his back. 

She waves goodbye just before he turns off his light, glimpsing his silohuette jumping into bed.

 

Raven doesn't look at the comic till she's back in her room. Under the lamplight, the gold of the hero's helmet gleams brighter. The yellow letters at the top read "Nova", a hero she's heard of once from Finn as Marvel's "Green Lantern". 

She flips through the pages, landing on a full page panel of a blue skinned woman, eyes glowing in the NOVA corps suit--

that's as far as she gets before she hears light footsteps down the hall. She hides the comic under the pillow, smacking off the light and faking sleep-- genuine weariness dragging her down after she lies in wait with her eyes closed for too long.


	3. we do not grow absolutely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (chap title is a quote from Anais Nin and future chap titles might also be from the same stanza that this comes from.)
> 
> the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back w/ a new chapter! I didn't forget about this fic I've just been trying to figure out who gets what chapter/what's important to tell/not important. I tend to blab in writing. 
> 
> but I'm very eager to get them to meet so i'm still chuggin away. u could say this is the slowest of slow burns.

"Dare me to jump off this cliff into the water?"

"No, Octavia, _please_."

You and Bellamy are tired from hiking, but Octavia seems to have tapped into some well of energy the deeper into the forest you go.

Your father and mother lead the expedition, and are setting up camp a good five minutes away. Bellamy and Octavia had tagged along more on Octavia's insistence. Bellamy seems a bit hesitant about leaving their mother alone; Octavia's blurted this to you once and you remember. She seemed to be constantly sick, but with what? they didn't know.

(You think your mother does though, the way she looks during phone conversations with her; a soft resignation on her face. She drops off medicine from time to time, free of charge for a friend in need. )

Their mother had urged them to go, so they were here with you, slapping at pesky mosquitoes. You all peer over the cliff's edge. Below it seems calm but you don't trust that any of you have the ability to fight an undercurrent should you fall in.

"Guys, uh, why don't we look around some more," you say, stepping back.

Octavia huffs but gets away from the edge, Bellamy following suit. Wanting to make it easier to get back to camp, you place three knee-height sticks standing up in the dirt and go west from there. The forest extends into an oasis that you might think was fictional if you didn't have two other people with you to witness.

There's only the quiet sound of the stream bubbling below the grassy perch you stand on. A cedarwood lies across the stream, just kissing the ground on the other side of it, roots stretching like supple fingers towards the green. Octavia gasps and is the first to run towards it to cross over.

"Octavia," Bellamy cautions but she's already set her foot on it. You see it tremble slightly as if it's going to roll over, but it steadies as she places her other foot on its bark. She leans forward slightly, arms spread wide for balance.

Bellamy rakes a hand through his hair and looks about to warn her again but you touch his shoulder. "Relax. If she falls off, she'll only end up soaked." You gesture to the water; you can easily see through to the bottom, estimate it to be knee height at best.

Bellamy's hand travels down to cover his mouth. His brow eases up for a moment, then back down. "But. What if she catches a cold?"

You roll your eyes and are about to reassure him AGAIN that there's nothing to worry about when there's a startled gasp from Octavia's direction. She's halfway across the log but a blue and black butterfly has perched on top of her right hand.

"Seriously," you mutter with a small grin, but you blindly search for the disposable camera you remember you brought with you.

CLICK.

You get one just before her arms start to wobble and the rest is as expected. She splashes into the stream with a yelp, the butterfly gone. Bellamy is the first to get to her and tug her out, chastising her the whole time. She squeezes out her hair over his head and he takes a deep calming breath. You chuckle to yourself, snapping a few more pictures because with Octavia wet, you know Bellamy's gonna want to take her back quickly.

As you turn to follow Bellamy and Octavia, you catch a glimpse of bright red. First a blur, then, on the branch closest to you, a solid. You realize with a start that the bird is literally all red; there were few birds in California that were. Its wings are tipped in dusky brown/black. It tilts beady black eyes at you, one side of it's face turned towards you then the other.

"Hello," you say softly and that's when it flutters its wings with chirruping, zipping further up into the tree.

 

Later, when you've snagged your father's California bird book, you find that it's a Summer Tanager. And that they're typically afraid of humans. The one you saw was a male, but females were a bright yellow. You touch the gloss of the pages marveling at the colors. They seem unreal.

You wonder how it survives with being so complimentarily colored in it's surroundings. If the loud red is worth nabbing its sunny mate.

\--

Though your mother impresses medical jargon on you, you're drawn a bit more to the spindly delicateness of greenery. If you learn a fact about anatomy or other aspects of the human body, you make sure to compensate with a plant fact of equal weight.

For example: the human body's circulatory system has white blood cells to protect and alert the the rest of the body about infection- and plants possess R protein that act in the same way with bacteria, triggered by a combination of the presence of SGT1 and Nod1.

You are not wholly unconvinced that humans are not also plants, the small partiality is based on how humans grab and destroy. This isn't to say that species of plants don't destroy as well-

(weeds-- the aesthetic of a lawn and the health of surrounding plants, more notably alligator weeds and the way they muck up water, fucking it up for aquatic life. a non-native plant overgrowing and knocking out native plants...)

-but the way plants destroy is mostly superficial. Mostly harmless.

If plants had hands would they destroy things too? Are plants happy enablers of other creatures that live in their depths? Do they practice evil via dropping a spider onto your face in the evening? By throwing a cricket by your ear in the morning to startle you out of bed?

Do they resent that humans breathe the air they cleanse only to pollute it again?

\--

You'd be pretty salty, to be honest.

\--

Mrs. Blake passes away suddenly towards the end of the summer. At the funeral, your mother, normally strong-faced, can't stop crying. Your father holds her close. You sit with the Bellamy siblings in the front row, holding onto Octavia's hand and Bellamy grasping the other. They seem to be still in shock, eyes red. Bellamy's more resigned to the fact than Octavia, bereft from the knowledge that it was coming regardless of what they did. Octavia's grip is vice-like as she swallows a sob.

You hear your mother in the row behind you to your father softly sob, "I just think I could've--helped her--more than I did--".

You think "maybe" but there's no such thing as rewinding time.

-

The Bellamy siblings end up having to leave your neighborhood. Though your mother and father try to take them in, they have family --distant not "exactly" blood but still-- and the relative lives a city away.

You took up drawing that summer and though you're shaky on drawing people, you recreate the photo in the forest with the butterfly, the Blackened Bluewing, and multiply their number, making a swarm. You place Bellamy sitting farther along the log from where Octavia balances. You give it to them with a shaky smile because you're trying not to cry but that fails because the first drop from Octavia's eyes triggers a chain reaction. You're all crying on their front lawn and they're hugging you, grasping like they won't see you again.

You don't let yourself think that this is the last time they'll be in front of you. Instead, you steel yourself and lean back, just enough to wipe Octavia's eyes, hold her face in your hands.

"We'll see each other again, I promise." Bellamy, tears already wiped away, levels a look at you that's partly hopeful and partly warning you not to give his sister false hope. You push through anyway. "You have my address, you have my number and when you get there-- you can give me your new number. This isn't goodbye forever."

Octavia sniffles, nods but hugs you a minute longer.

Once your mom and dad hug them goodbye, they're gone, pet dog and all. You stand in the doorway of their old house, stare at the starkness of it's periwinkle walls and feel a sadness settle in your ribs.

-

At the hardware store with your father the week after the move, you buy a packet of blue butterfly delphiniums. _For next summer_ , you promise yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i felt like clarke would be a soft, artsy, plant babby.  
> dont judge me


	4. we grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bit of a recap since it's been awhile w/Raven's side; Raven's ma agreed to let her spend the summer w/her uncle on his ranch. Raven ends up sorting out just how she'll spend her time in Nowheresville, USA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had this chapter written before the last chap for Clarke b/c Raven just seems...easier to write i guess? I however do not own a ranch nor have i ever been to one so i tried to research to the best of my ability.

The moment Raven settles into her uncle's truck, she notices his eyes on her jacket.

 

"What?" she turns to the man then inspects the jacket, alarmed. "Did I tear it...?"

Tio Miguel gives a barking laugh, gruff and loud. He's much bigger than any adult Raven's been around, his hands large and calloused from years of work. His hair is buzzcut yet he sports a full beard, gray hair wisping at odd corners. 

His skin is a shade darker than Raven's but it seems more of a genetic thing than a "suntan"-thing considering how fair-skinned her mother was.

"No, you didn't tear it. I just haven't seen it in awhile. " He starts the car. Raven senses there's more he wants to say. She sits quiet until he does, once they've reached the highway. "The jacket was your father's. I thought your mother sold it."

"She tried," Raven said, stubbornly folding her arms. "But I dug it out the bag."

Her mother had let her keep it after that; no matter how many times she'd said _"it's a man's coat, it's too big for you!"_ Raven would state that it fit her just fine.

"Be careful with it-- your mother might've gotten a pretty penny if she'd sold it."

"I don't let anyone else touch it." 

The real reason why Raven keeps it on damn near 24/7 is that she's afraid her mom will still try to sell it, or one of her peers will try to sell it. It's a security blanket of sorts--makes her stand taller like she's representing the starry dream she's sewn onto the breast pocket. Like a super suit.

\--

Tio Miguel's farm is actually more of a cattle ranch-- the smell makes Raven wrinkle her nose but she becomes...mostly used to it after the first couple of days. 

It's summer so the cattle need to be herded to an elevated paddock and most of Raven does is helping her uncle prepare it for them. Around the second week she decides the ranch is the one exception for not wearing her jacket because she almost falls headfirst into a cow pie. Her life flashed before her eyes while her uncle chortled from a distance. 

"Watch your step, mija. Those are everywhere." 

The northwest across the pasture of cattle was an electric fence, then a dirt road, then her Uncle's house. The barn was to the northeast of the pasture sitting inside the fences' perimeter. Occasionally a beat up truck or van would ride on through the road up north to town, beeping at her uncle if he was sitting on the porch. 

One night, when Raven's sitting in one of the reclining chairs on the porch staring up at the sky, a car unlike the others (sleek, what might be a convertible) stops abruptly a couple of yards from the house. 

Raven tenses and gets out of her seat, ready to call for her Tio until a figure sort of slumps out of the car, feminine in silhouette, and retches in the bushes--

her uncle's bushes.

"Hey!" She doesn't know what possessed her but Raven angrily makes her way to the car. Maybe it's the power of the jacket, emboldening her. Maybe she's growing senile early, eager to tell someone to get the fuck off her uncle's lawn.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Raven stands what should be a safe yard away in the headlights of the car. 

The female figure stands and coughs before cursing and turning to Raven. She coughs out a raspy laugh and staggers a little bit closer to Raven. Raven's fingers tighten into fists at her side.

The woman (?) shuffles a bit into the headlights of her car, placing a hand on the hood for support. She's taller than Raven by about two heads (maybe three). Raven catches half of a sharp cheekbone and long wavy hair. 

"Who put you in charge, shortstuff?" she quips. Though still raspy from tossing up the contents of her stomach, her voice was a tone deeper than Raven's and slightly melodic.

"You just vomited onto my uncle's property."

"Really? This is about a bush? God I'm too drunk for tiny Taco Tuesday telling me what to do--"

" _Puta de madre_ \--Clean up your fucking puke, you pisswipe!"

The woman spreads her arms to the sky in supplication. "With what?! My bare hands???"

"If that's what it takes, then yes!"

The woman laughs again, throaty and mellow ,"You must be crazy!"---and if there's one thing that makes Raven see red, it's people laughing at her. 

She closes the distance between in long strides and snatches up a handful of the girl's collar, the scent of vodka and vanilla emanating from the woman stronger at this proximity. 

"I think _you're_ the crazy one if you don't think--"

"What's going on here?!" 

Miguel stands at the door in a tanktop and shorts, blearily blinking sleep out of his eyes. Upon seeing Raven's hold on the woman he hurriedly separates them --the woman staggering to the driver's seat of her car with a muttered epithet. 

"She vomited on your bushes, Tio!" Raven says, trying to go around the tree of a man to get to the woman. "She just drove up and puked all over them!"

"It's nothing that a water hose won't fix, _mija_. Now go inside."

"Bu--"

He levels a stern glare at her that she hadn't witnessed before that snaps her mouth shut. She stomps to the house as he turns to the woman. 

"Anya. It isn't safe for you to keep doing this..." His voice fades as Raven gets closer to the screen door, slamming it shut in anger.

He comes in maybe ten minutes later. Raven's sitting on a chair in the kitchen, having mentally prepared herself for her Tio to start shouting. 

But he just turns an empty chair towards her and lowers himself into it slowly with the grunt that comes with old age. 

He waits for Raven to look at him before talking. 

"Niña. You can't just run up on people here like this is the _barrio_."

"But--"

"I know. I know what she did. Anya's been through here before. I know her parents, nice enough people. This is her third time doing something like this, so I'm calling them in the morning."

"So this isn't the first time this bitch trespassed?"

"Hey, _watch your mouth_. No. This isn't the first time. But it's taken care of."

Raven pouts and huffs.

"Now, I don't want to hear about you starting any fights the rest of your time here--or I will send you straight home to your mama. _Comprendé_?"

Raven nods faintly.

"Ah, ah--I want to hear you--do you understand?"

"Yes, Tio."

"Good."

-

Tio Miguel sends Raven to the market the next morning, the 12 dollars in hand presumably just enough to buy the produce that he doesn't grow. Though Raven's afraid of the attention that might be drawn to her in the farmer's market since she was a new face, the market is more of a enclosed store, less people standing by their wares, a woman near the front at the cash register. It smells faintly like flowers but she'd be damned if she could place which ones. 

Raven fills up her basket with strawberries, tomatoes, and grapes, weighed to roughly a pound. 

When she goes to check out, there's a familiar figure standing ahead of her buying what looks like ginger and pineapple juice. Anya wears a leather jacket and tight skinny jeans tucked into combat boots. Dark shades obscure her eyes but Raven can see her mouth turn into a slight grimace at the volume of the cashier's voice as she tells her the total. 

Raven remembers what her Tio told her and grips the basket tighter. No swinging on people. Even if they deserve it.

When the cashier rings up Raven's food she stops her from paying. Raven's confused until the the woman says,

"The young lady ahead of you covered you. You're good to go."

Raven blinks. Mumbles an "O...kay...," and walks slowly out the door with her bags expecting a catch. But the woman doesn't call her back or yell, "Just kidding!" as she steps outside.

Her brow furrows when she sees Anya off to the side of the market's stoop, puffing on a cigarette, her bag at her feet. The blue skies frame her profile prettily, despite the disheveled state of her hair, roots brown but the rest a dyed scarlet. Raven scoffs--apparently looking like a dirty wannabe-rockstar was a thing even in no-name towns like this one.

"You know this doesn't cover the bushes, right?" Raven jostles the bag in her hand as she stands off to Anya's side, not wanting to get a faceful of smoke.

Raven's sure Anya rolls her eyes and her brow twitches as she blows smoke out of her nose, like a vexed dragon. She holds the cigarette aloft and turns her head to acknowledge the living thorn in her side.

"I wasn't trying to cover what I did to the bushes. I was trying to be a nice person, " her teeth bare on 'nice' ; a wolf trying out words. There's a tick in her jaw but it smooths with another slow inhale of smoke. She exhales. "He's gonna call my parents anyway so I'm already in deep shit or whatever."

Raven pauses at that. Her uncle already cleaned the bushes so there's not much she can yell at her about there. She still wants to be mad at this bitch...with her modelesque cheekbones and shit. There are patches sewn into Anya's jacket, a circular one that says _Busted Arbor_ in wicked lettering on her left shoulder, a gnarled branch with one leaf in the center backed by crossed drumsticks.

"I thought wannabe-grunge-rockstar died out," Raven mutters as an aside, still unwilling to let go of her anger but not having much to stoke it with.

To her surprise, Anya barks out a chuckle, flicks the cigarette to the ground and stomps it out with a well-placed heel. 

She coughs, still slightly smiling, the smile slightly vicious. "Oh, I'm no wannabe, honey. I play bass." 

"Really." Raven deadpans, feeling distaste twist her lip, watching Anya pick up her bag and saunter towards her car. 

"Yes, _really_." She tosses her bag in the passenger seat and slides her glasses up into her hair with a wince and a hushed 'fuck'." We practice at the old schoolhouse off of Newton drive in the afternoons."

"Why the hell would I _want_ to see you play at a schoolhouse."

"I mean...," Anya shrugs."We also play at the bar weekly but that babyface of yours wouldn't do you any favors there."

Raven's scowl deepens and her eyes narrow, she turns away but can hear Anya chuckle and call after her.

"Consider it a peace offering. Think about it, Taco Tuesday."

Raven whirls at that, but Anya's already climbed into her car. She slides the glasses back down over her eyes and adjusts the mirror. Raven makes sure Anya sees her flick her off as she drives away.

\--

There's no way she's going to that self-entitled bitch's rehearsal. Her bandmates are probably as terrible as her.

 

But.

There was a black guitar case in the backseat of Anya's convertible. So she wasn't lying about playing.

-

Would this summer be _The Summer Raven Turned Into Headbanging Scum_?

Raven snorts to herself, busies her hands with the task of cleaning out stalls. 

\--

\--

"Hey, Tio..."

"Hm?"

"How...far away is the schoolhouse off Newton from here?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's about it for "past summer" stuff! Finally!!!!!  
> The chapters after this will deal with them after the summer i.e. that reunion y'all've been waiting for so we can get to good part of this slow burn. 
> 
> [Though I wanted to go further with Anya I'll say it now that it's implied that Raven hangs w/her band/ learns guitar to some extent. I may do an Anya & Raven oneshot in the future dealing with what exactly they did this summer (nothing explicit since Anya's way older than her and Raven's still a minor). But I'm moving on for now. I CAN say that Anya will show up again in this story.]
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. we are relative (pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when friends leave another comes back to fill the void; 
> 
> this is the theory of frienditvity
> 
> :^)

The Blake siblings called you with their new number shortly after they'd moved but don't call that often. In fact the last time you talked to Octavia she said the new school was difficult and most people there were in the MJROTC program. Bellamy had joined the engineering club and was hardly on the phone if at all. You still eye the packet of butterfly delphiniums on your dresser, eager for spring break to put them in the ground, hoping they bring back your friends with their blooming.

Your father, noting your interest in plants, buys you a small barrel cactus as a what’s probably a joke, saying that he’d buy you “real” flowers later. 

You sit it on your windowsill and a week later, a small pink flower buds on top. You're enchanted and look into succulents, buying an additional finger cactus and a gasteraloe, the latter is rose-like yet not as fragile. Unlike other decorative plants, they last through the seasons if you care for them right.

" _Now_ look what you did, Jake. Soon we'll have a houseful of cactus and no room for anything else," your mother says to your father as they both look into your room, you sitting on your bed painting the plants in your window. She's laughing when she says it, though you understand why she'd think it's strange that you want prickly plants over more colorful ones. 

Your dad shrugs, sheepish. 

"What? I thought the first cactus was cute. I didn't think she'd turn her room into a greenhouse."

Your mother walks over to look at your painting and smooths a hand through your hair, seeming to mull that your father’s statement over. "You'd...tell us if you _were_ planning on building a greenhouse, right?"

You laugh. "I don't even have the parts to do that, mom."

"Just making sure."

\--

You learn two important things your first week of high school-- Mr. Killian is your homeroom professor and...Wells is in the same homeroom class as you?

Wait. Wells moved back? Without telling you??? Impossible.

You take a seat in the third row in class, closer to the door. Wells moved away just before you met the Blakes in the fourth grade. You'd sent each other sloppily written letters for two months until he stopped replying the third. 

He sits in the first row and at first you aren't sure its him till attendance is taken. Your name is called before his and he turns from his book when you respond to the teacher, his surprised eyes meeting yours. His jaw is squarer and his hair is shaped into a flat-top fade. He's dressed proper, a bit too proper for a casual dress-code school like this one with a polo blue shirt and tan slacks.

You debate scowling at him as payback for the lack of response in years but your mouth betrays you in a small smile as the teacher calls his name. 

His eyebrows jump and he turns around, stuttering out a "here!" before reluctantly looking back down at the book he has open.

The morning announcements crackle on when the teacher is calling the "S"'s on his role sheet. 

_"Good morning faculty and students.....we'd like to welcome our new principal, Dr. Jaha. He's returned to the county after several years away teaching at Polis University and we're so happy he's with us for this semester and beyond...."_

Wells' shoulders tense minutely but he doesn't look up, not till Killian unsmilingly welcomes him. 

Wells doesn't look back in your direction again till class introductions, offering a shaky smile. 

\--

"Why didn't you tell me, you jerk?"

"I was going to call you this week! Listen, we just got here a day ago," Wells raises his hands, palm facing out and you notice-- not for the first time today--how tall he's gotten. You used to be the same height. "Cut me some slack, alright? My dad is....pretty strict about what I can and can't do." He grimaces and rubs his shoulder.

"I see," you reply while pointedly eyeing his polo shirt. He rolls his eyes. "Well..," you sigh with a fake air of burden, "I GUESS I can forgive you," you drawl, tossing your hand as if you're swatting the issue out of the air. You realize you miss his hugs when he smiles and holds out his arms. You step into them, cologne and warmth enveloping you. 

You will later see the glitter in his eyes towards you as something you can not return; though you do love him, it is as blood.

-

The end of homeroom finds you at your locker, taking out an extra notebook, then walking quickly in order to get to the other side of the school where your second period is. It only takes one moment of looking down at the room number, to assuage your anxiety, to make you unaware of the body coming towards you. 

You collide with a mess of red and brown. Your hands clutch at cotton, a familiar texture before yanking back at the same time their hands (a long, thin scar across the knucklebones of their left hand) ease you back by your shoulders, realizing your proximity. 

The glimpse you get of umber eyes is short but seems to stretch a second longer when you recognize the face. She gruffly mutters something that sounds like "sorry" and quickly steps around you with the friend you only just register.

You clutch your books and turn your head just slightly--slight enough not to seem obvious, to see chestnut hair and a red jacket disappear around a corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want you all to know "How Will I Know," by Whitney Houston is playing in the background when Clarke turns her head in slow motion ok thank u...it is a bop despite pronouns bein different here  
> (updates sometime next week, still ironing this out & i gotta bunch of real life deadlines. future whitney houston songs to be rec'd w/ each fic)


	6. we are relative (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hi. Again." 
> 
> ewe

Finn hasn't missed a beat since Raven bumped into the Princess, rambling on about _Captain America_ , but Raven feels like she dropped something in the middle of the hall. She fights the urge to look back but the encounter shadows her. Time had slowed back there, and she felt her brain was still catching up. 

Princess had smelled like the time Raven and Finn went down to the creek and looked for four leaf clovers. She smelled opposite of Finn, opposite of Anya definitely. No smoke, peaches maybe--the flowers in the market maybe. Maybe a hint of mint gum.

Even back in that moment, the thought of how sweet this girl smells and the fact that she's OBSESSING over this one sensory detail twisted Raven's mouth, made her nauseous enough that instead of an insult she'd rushed out a "sorry" after the clear blue eyes widen. 

She'd hurried away because she remembers the purple staining her fingers, the popsicle stick that she actually thought twice about tossing, slid into one of her folders labeled "Potential Energy" instead. 

Raven touches the front of her jacket absently to smooth it out, but her hand lingers just above her heart. She shakes her head sharply enough that Finn breaks out of his analysis of Bucky and Cap's relationship to ask if she's okay.

"I'm fine. Just a sneeze."

He buys it and prattles on. 

The summer at the farm and with Anya made things a little easier; she can pedal up steeper hills without being so sore in the morning, throw harder punches--hard enough that the guys on Sleet Avenue haven't bothered her in weeks. 

Anya, along with teaching Raven some guitar, taught her how to harness her anger; help it steel instead of blind her. Anya's Resting Bitch-Face was immaculate because of how much she held inside her; "Zeus-like," Raven remembers Tris saying reverently. 

Even so, Raven's anger still threatened to boil over at times, specifically around her mother and her new boyfriend. She'd stopped counting partners a while ago. The only times her mother seems to want to interact with her are times that he's over so he can watch her (attempt) to exert control over Raven. 

Raven usually grabs something from the kitchen to eat and goes straight to her room and locks the door. Her mother threatened to take the hinges off it if Raven kept on ignoring her this way. But it's an empty threat. 

(To a degree, Raven thinks her mom at least understands her unease around the new men. As Raven's mother, however reluctant, she leaves this one thing to her child.)

Raven escaped out the window as usual on nights Finn wanted to meet down in the junkyard. She realizes with annoyance that her head now came up to his collarbone. The day she came back from her Tio's farm, Finn kissed her. 

With a shudder, she felt oddly that this must be what kissing a brother felt like--clammy and awkwardly tingly. She suppresses a grimace to save his feelings but when she'd eventually voiced the oddness into the calm of the night, Finn grimaced outwardly, took a step back and was silent for a bit. Raven doesn't think she'd be willing to step onto that shaky bridge again. 

She shook her head and forced the _NOVA_ trade paperback he’d lent her back into his hands. Despite his silence, Raven talks about the comic and hive-minds, having a collective ancestry inside you that could talk back, place responsibility on you, pull you out of trouble. Wonder faintly if that's what having the jacket is to her, the only thing she has of her father from a time her father supposedly acted responsible.

Finn seems to spark at that, though his eyes are still sad--still _will be_ sad at times when he thinks she isn't looking. 

In a small apology, Raven pulls out the other thing she meant to give him right off the bat, a necklace for the little metal paper crane she knows he keeps in a box under his bed. It was one of his mother's things back when she was alive. 

There is something that settles slightly in his face when she presents it to him, a calm that envelops him. Finn practically never takes the thing off, only hides it under his shirt when he's around his father. 

Raven's pulled back to the present time as the warning bell rings, brain seeming to snap back into place. Finn claps a hand to her shoulder as he heads the opposite direction; he has English while she has Honors Bio. 

She steps inside the class with a couple of minutes to spare and plops down in a desk in the middle row, more towards the door than the teacher's desk at the front of the room. Not too many people are in the class, let alone anyone she recognizes from her middle school. Even though it was an honors class, the front seat would make her a target and she'd had enough of that. She could still take good notes from her row, still get participation points without being front-and-center geek. She realized that now. 

So when the Princess steps in and sits down in the front row, same column as Raven's desk (two desks in front of her), Raven can't stop herself from rolling her eyes. Just her luck. 

She hasn't taken note of Raven yet, focused on the front board where the teacher is writing his name and other details. Princess pulls out a notebook and a pen--despite Raven's nickname for her, most of the things she has aren't overly pink or prissy. Her bag has a cactus pin on it so maybe that's the _oddest_ thing. 

But Raven knows about the Griffin family. How _impossibly_ nice and normal they seem to be. How Abby Griffin is a doctor that everyone in town asks for because they know she'll take care of them to the best of her personal ability. She knows secondhand about David Griffin, her own mother mentioning how quick her car was fixed up with an additional tune up for practically free.

Passing by that house every day after middle school had made her grow sick with envy--until that chance encounter with their daughter that threw her for a loop. Disturbed to the point that it robbed of her words. 

When she'd stepped into that stranger's home, the kitchen table a little messy with papers marked with oil grease, mail on the counter addressed to "The Griffins", and the daughter pulling out a first aid kit--she'd felt her heart unfurling to welcome something that felt like _peace_. She hadn't felt that in so long while living with her mother. 

Raven still was a staunch believer that everyone had at least one thing wrong with them no matter how kind. Clarke, even before high school, was popular AND a star student. Or at least this is what she heard from some kids that had transferred from Clarke’s school, and some kids in town. People genuinely had nothing wrong to say about her aside from their own casual jealousy of her. 

But Raven refused to believe anyone was that perfect.

More people file in after the bell, as was usual on the first day. More people she didn't know, a couple waving to Clarke but not exactly crowding to sit around her. The teacher, a tall dark skinned man with glasses and a clean-cut grey beard stood at the front, introducing himself as Mr. Rose. There was some snickering that quieted when he glared in their direction.

"We'll start with attendance before we get on to the lesson," he said, holding up a clipboard with sheets attached.

He went down the list. Clarke raised a hand when her last name was called--he smiled at her evenly and proceeded. 

Raven had just about dozed off when he reached her name, snapping a hand up. He was looking down at his board so she blurted a "Here," so he wouldn't draw more attention to her. 

Regardless, having to speak at all drew one person's attention-- Clarke's head tilted and she turned slightly. Raven saw the slope of her nose and an eyelash before she turned back.

After attendance, Mr. Rose cleared his throat. "Another thing--it bothers me when students leave gaps in the seating arrangement as we do a lot of group lab work in this class, so unless you want me to draw up a seating chart by alphabetical order, I suggest you come up and fill in the gaps in your column or row." He shoots a pointed look at Raven, who's sitting two empty desks behind Clarke. 

Raven sighs and scoops up her things, depositing them rather noisily behind the Princess. She sees Clarke's shoulders tense up a bit.

The teacher starts out with a powerpoint presentation that's simple enough on the projected semester, but then he throws a couple of questions at the class. 

"To test the waters, " he says with a smile, "Can anyone tell me the four major chemical elements that make up a cell?"

There's a pause, then Clarke raises her hand, unwavering in the silence, "Carbon, Hydrogen, Oxygen, and Nitrogen."

He nods, "Very good. And as sort of an extra zinger, can anyone tell me what element is the highest percentage?"

Someone from the east side of the room tentatively says, "Hydrogen," and Mr. Rose nods again. 

"Yes, excellent. Now--don't feel bad if you don't know these answers, the point of this class is to teach you." 

He goes into a pointed ramble on everything Raven expects to be in the first chapter of their Biology books, and she takes notes, knowing that what he's pointing out should be what she studies because they'll probably be on a quiz. 

Clarke does the same, Raven observes, but has two different colored ballpoint pens, seeming to switch between the two based on some algorithm Raven isn't interested in decoding.

He comes out of his ramble for breath to pose another question, "In several units, we get to focus on the celestial bodies, the stars. Can anyone tell me the elemental makeup of a star, since we've covered cells?"

A beat. Two. Then Raven purses her lips and raises her hand. "Hydrogen, Helium, Carbon, and Oxygen." She bites her lip. "And other trace elements."

"Like?" Mr. Rose's eyebrows look like he /knows/ she knows. "I'm assuming that NASA patch isn't there for nothing, Ms. Reyes."

The class chuckles (in good nature) but Raven still feels like covering her face. Clarke covers her own mouth with a hand in a way she probably thinks is nonchalant, but Raven can see her shoulders shake. Raven puts down her pen.

 _Fine_. "You got me,” she replies, smile sardonic. “Trace elements like silicon, magnesium, and sodium. Formed by fusion of atoms within the star. Any elements formed past iron are the result of collapses of heavy stars."

He nods again, this time seeming more satisfied with Raven's participation, the ghost of a smile on his lips before he moves on in the lesson. 

Raven isn't sure if she's imagining eyes on her but she's quickly realized she's singled herself out regardless. Again. 

She resolves not to answer anymore questions that class.

Towards the end, the professor passes out a sheet. "The partnerwork that I mentioned earlier? I'm assigning it today." The class groans, and Raven stiffens in her seat as the professor looks over towards her desk row. "We have a pretty even amount of people so let's do it this way....Griffin and Reyes, you're Group 1. Follow the topic suggestions on the sheet." He pairs up the rest of the class similarly. "This is due in a month or so. The sooner you get started the better which is why you have the last ten minutes to talk with partners."

Raven stares at the paper without seeing it. _Of course,_ she thinks.

The Princess drums her fingers on her desk, before turning around. Her face is hopeful if not a bit wary. "So."

"So."

"Hi. Again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa hello.  
> what prompts me to come back to this is kinda this train of thought whenever im reading fic to escape from some other responsibility:
> 
> "There should be more HS AUs of JUST Raven/Clarke im swamped in Clarke/Lexa"  
> "Wait..."  
> "I have a HS AU of Raven/Clarke that I haven't.....finished..."  
> "...."  
> "Fuck. where are my notes for this??"
> 
> also current events in America have me uneasy af so @ my fellow POC and LGBT+ folk: take care.


	7. passion gives me moments of wholeness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tech club? Working on the assignment. clarke is probs a bit sapiosexual????

 

_“dear journal,_  
_a cute girl smiled at me today_  
_i think i fell for her literally and figuratively”_

_\- efb | aesterismos, “Dear Journal” , flowers for a ghost_

 

The topic you both end up choosing is “The Evolution of Space vs Earth”, which is in effect very broad but more interesting and mentally challenging than if you'd chosen “Plant Cells vs Animal Cells”. You meet in the library the next couple of days, pulling books from shelves and printing off articles that seemed relevant from the databases students were allowed to access. Aside from quick one-word comments on whether a new source would be useful or not, you and Raven didn't speak much. It wasn't awkward till you had to say goodbye to each other; You would smile and wave and Raven would tilt her head and grimace as if she didn't know how smiles worked. By the second day it turned into a nod, no eye contact, and still no smile.

Would it really kill her to smile once? you thought inanely. At least you got her number out of this project. That was something.

You found yourself sneaking glances at Raven in the cafeteria or in the hallway or class - you knew it might be time to stop but when she was with that “Finn” kid, she'd sort of smile. It was a smirk really but she was totally capable of smiling.

Not that you were that desperate to see her actually smile or anything, but maybe it just meant you should accept that she hates your guts, shared popsicle be damned.

You tune back into the conversation Wells' is having with some other kids at your table, one named Monty who's probably some sort of White Hat hacker when he isn't at school, and Jasper who....always has some sort of black and oily looking stain on the bottom of his shirt.

“ Dude you should just go ahead and petition the student council for a Tech Club, Monty,” Wells said.

“But if I do that, they might take it as me being president of that club! I don't want to be president! I have zero leading experience,” Monty replied.

Jasper shrugged. “I can put my name up for president? I mean I know more about engines than PCs or whatever but-”

“It would work,” Wells points a finger. “You need three more people in order for the club to keep a room reservation. And a sponsor teacher.”

“I already have a teacher in mind, I just need people,” Monty said.

“I think Finn would join,” Jasper nods over at Finn and Raven's usual table.

“You talk to Finn?” you blurt, surprised.

“Um, yes? Why?” Jasper's eyebrows furrow and he leans in closer whispering. “Has someone finally caught your eye?”

You scoff and bat him away. “No! I'm just surprised at least one of those two speak to anyone other than each other.”

Jasper purses his lips. “OH. Oh. Yeah. She is a bit standoffish. The girl. But she's really smart I hear.”

“And super talented with her hands—shit! Sorry! I meant that in the least gross way,” Monty backpedals. You stifle a laugh. “I had a bike and a radio that were broken way back that I needed to use but didn't have the parts to fix on my own and Finn said him and his friend would repair them for money. He sorta fixed the bike but couldn't fix the radio. Raven fixed the radio and re-fixed the bike. They probably made a killing that summer.”

“Really...,” Your eyes settled on Raven's profile, then her hands. You remember the scar on her left. “There's no chance you could get her to join though. I can sign up my name if you need it but I know fuck-all about technology.”

Wells looks in the same direction as you, then at Monty. “But what if there was a chance she'd join?”

You blink, incredulous, and narrow your eyes at Wells. “I just said there was no chance. None. Weren't you listening to me?”

“There is 'a' chance.” Wells glances at something over your shoulder. “If Monty asks her and she says no, you could technically still convince her.”

“How??? With our sacred 'girl power' bond?” you spit. “That's not how it works. She doesn't like me at all.”

“Has she said it to your face? You don't know that for sure,” Wells says and you want to pull the smug smile off his face.

You sigh aggrievedly, “I'm telling you--”

“R-Raven!” Monty stutters. “Hi! We're thinking of starting a Tech Club. Would you be interested in, uh, joining?”

  
You freeze, not knowing how you didn't notice a person coming up behind you—but Raven definitely is standing there, her voice proof as she grumbles an, “I'll think about it.”

Which isn't a 'no'. New surprises everyday.

You're ready to turn all the way around to face her because she's still standing there after her answer, but she leans a hand on the end of the table to your left so you end up turning short to look at her.

“Princess,” she states seemingly bored. “We should decide where we're meeting Saturday. And it can't be my house.”

'Princess' is a new one. That you aren't sure how to feel about. As is the eye-contact. “Um. Sure? You could've just texted me, Reyes.”

“Texting takes too long and you're right here. So?”

“Well. We already have everything as far as sources. So we could do it in my house—the assignment, that is,” you shut your mouth and perch your chin on your hand in hope of stopping anymore stupidity from flowing out. You can feel your cheeks getting red.

Raven smirks just the tiniest bit, her eyebrows ticking up at either your slip or embarrassment –probably both-- before dropping eye-contact. “ Okay. I'll be there around noon?”

“Sure,” you reply, self-deprecating smile still on your face.

Raven nods and strides back to her table.

You feel the eyes of the boys at the table.

“That didn't look like hate,” Wells says, after a minute.

“That actually kind of looked like flirting,” Jasper mutters. You jab him in the side. “Ow! But really though, 'Princess'? She does not hate you.”

“Can we please move on from this? It's a group project.” You look at Monty. “In a couple of days I'll ask her again for you.” You glare at Wells. “Happy?”

Wells laughs and raises his hands up in front of himself in surrender. He nods and ushers the group onto another topic.

 

–

 

Clarke leaves the door unlocked for Raven since she's preoccupied (foolish of her) but Raven locks it behind her. She'd brought her bike inside because it seemed too forward of her to go into their backyard or garage and it wasn't dirty or anything. Raven leans it near a window in the kitchen, hopefully out of the way.

The odd feeling of calm settles in her chest again as she looks around the kitchen, comparing it to the last time she was here. Maybe the oven mittens changed color and the mail on the counter was stacked neatly off to the side, but it was still the same.

Raven heard Clarke's voice before she saw her come out of a door that must lead to the basement. She could hear the washer rumbling. Clarke was on the phone and to her credit didn't jump when she saw Raven. “My partner is here, I'll call you back okay?”

Clarke sticks her phone into the back pocket of her shorts. She's wearing a white sweater that says Succulents Are Plantastic with six small cacti underneath the words.

Raven can't hold back the small chuckle and looks away when Clarke puts her hands on her hips.

“Is my sweater really that funny?”

Raven shakes her head. “No, there's just something in the air.” She fake coughs. “There's nothing funny here.”

Clarke obviously doesn't believe her but chooses to move on. “Then lets get to work. My books are up in my room and I don't think you want to work in the kitchen unless you want my dad bothering you when he gets home?”

Raven picks up her bag and follows Clarke up the stairs. The first room on the left was the blonde's.

Raven guesses it was from mentally calling Clarke “Princess” that she thought her walls would be pink or some shit. They're a normal white with some posters and paintings tacked up on them. Her desk sits hear her window with some paintbrushes in a can. But in the windowsill there are...actual succulents. Three of them to be exact.

“So. You really like...plants,” Raven says setting her books down on the side of Clarke's desk as she cranes her neck to look at the cacti that's budded a single red flower.

Clarke closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, exhales. “Yes. I like plants. You like space. Great. We know each other enough for this project. Can we get to work?”

Raven shrugs and bites back a smile. She liked getting on the blonde's nerves because she was still on the fence of figuring out what Clarke's vice was. Raven's thoughts lingered on her legs—how they were toned, so she was probably athletically active before high school. No one gets legs like those from just sitting around. Raven clicks the pen she's holding twice before she banishes Clarke's legs from her brain.

  
They stopped at 5pm, pages of notes and analysis passed between the two for comparison but only a fourth of the way done with the project. Clarke sits, eyebrows screwed together as Raven puts away her things. Maybe Clarke had allergies?

“Wait. Um. Can you come by tomorrow? If you're not doing anything.” Clarke hedges, “In order to get the whole project done and still give us time to fix things once our other classes start up, we need to at least get another bit done tomorrow.”

Raven thinks about saying no, that Finn has something planned that's more important than her studies but he doesn't and Clarke's home is more peaceful than hers.

“Sure,” she replies.

Clarke seems surprised, mouth forming empty around a syllable before blurting out. “Great! Um. We can meet around the same time or a bit earlier. Whenever you wanna' come over.”

Raven nods. Offers that she'll be around at 12pm before she disappears out the door.

  
–

 

Raven's over at 11am – you know this because you're sitting at the kitchen table nodding off while waiting for the pancakes to be done when there's a knock at the door. Your father, who's already up, gets it before you think of spending the energy.

“Good morning! You must be Clarke's friend, Raven from Biology! Come in and have breakfast.”

You mentally correct friend to partner but you guess it doesn't matter that much at the moment. You can actually see the surprise mixed with anxiety in Raven's face at being hit with your father's positive morning energy. You hide a grin behind your wrist.

“I'm sorry, I was actually supposed to come over at least an hour later?” she says.

“Nonsense, it's fine,” your father counters, waving her in and shutting the door. “You can call me 'Mr. Griffin' or 'David'. Whichever is fine but 'Mr. Griffin' makes me feel very old.”

Raven grimaces as she sits down next to you. “I think I'm more comfortable with 'Mr. Griffin', sir.”

“Fine,” he sighs over-dramatically, but turns back to the pancakes.

You turn to Raven whose shoulders slowly relax when she realizes your father isn't going to launch any follow up questions at the moment. Her hair is down and under her jacket she's wearing a green hoodie that's a size too big over sweatpants. She seems slightly off balance, probably not just from your dad but from whatever made her come over an hour early.

“Sorry I'm here now instead of later,” she mutters.

You shrug. “I did say whenever you wanted to come over was fine.”

She shrugs back and you're both silent, you staring at the table, Raven's head leaned against her hand staring down at her flip phone but not opening it.

You two aren't even close enough for you to start asking the reason why she's here early and you know she'll just brush you off but it's on the tip of your tongue. Your father saves her unknowingly by setting down two plates of pancakes, bacon, and eggs.

A small smile crosses Raven's face when she thanks your father and you're caught on wondering what her full smile looks like until your dad sets down two glasses of juice.

“Where's your mom?” Raven asks between mouthfuls of pancake. Probably doesn't want to get ambushed again.

“She's at the hospital till five I think. This was technically her day off,” you partially pout.

“It was. But people can't help getting hurt on weekends,” your dad comments as he sits down at the head of the table with his coffee and plate of food.

You can feel Raven brace for the usual set of questions parents dish out to kids that aren't theirs but your father can read a room and it's 11:30am on the weekend.

You do the dishes and pans and Raven leans against the counter being of no help at all lost in her own thoughts.

“You can at least dry them.”

She tunes back in slowly, looking at you, eyebrows arched. “Hm?”

“Space-Case to Ground Zero,” you chuckle, “help me dry the dishes.”

“Oh. Wait. Did you just call me Space-Case?”

“I definitely did.”

Raven tosses her hair over her shoulder, and rolls up her sleeves to start drying. “ _Eres tan cojo_ ,” she mutters under her breath.

You nearly drop a dish with the unexpected spark that goes through your chest. You write it off as being terribly offended. “Th-That's not fair at all. You could've said I was a shit-eater. Is that what you said? If you did I'm hurt, really.”

Raven rolls her eyes and that smirk appears on her face again. “I called you lame.”

“No you did not.”

“I did. If I wanted to call you a shit-eater I would've said _come mierda_.”

You narrow your eyes at Raven in suspicion but say, “Fine. I believe you,” because your stomach did a funny thing when she said _mierda_ and you want it to stop.

Come to think of it, this morning seems too easy. You'd expected her to be even more closed off but she's smiled (smirked) twice this morning. Once at your expense. But the bickering doesn't bother you, just surprises you.

  
When you come into your room, she's sitting on the floor next to your bed with all the papers splayed out, writing. Even though the bed is big enough for two people and papers. She keeps on brushing her hair out of her face and you realize you're staring when she cards her fingers through her hair again. Shit.

“Do you want a hair tie?” you blurt out of fear of where your thoughts are going. What's wrong with you?

She looks at you, eyebrows arched again, coming out of her unguarded world of thought. “Um. Sure. I'll borrow one if you have one.”

You toss her one and succeed at only glancing at her pulling her hair back before you focus in on the papers you've placed in front of you on your bed.

  
You probably haven't stated this enough in your mind but—Raven's wicked smart. Like. You could see her being an engineer kind of smart. She brings up a comparison point from her articles on the big bang theory to something you posited from your book on cellular evolution and elaborates on it like she's a living encyclopedia. Stops. Writes something down. Pauses. Re-explains what she just said in layman's terms.

“Why do you sit in the back?” you say, bewildered.

“I sit right behind you.”

“But before that it wasn't the first row. It still really isn't.”

Raven scratches the back of her head. Her eyes are half-lidded showing how much she cares to answer. But she answers. “I can still hear him if I'm a row or two back and not draw attention to myself.” She clicks her pen against her Biology book. She looks at you, hoping that you're done asking and will drop this.

You will not.

“Do you do this in your other classes?”

“Sit in the back? Why does it matter to you so much?” she goes back to take notes. “Are you my mom?”

“Why do I have to be your mother to care?”

Raven's grip on her pen tightens. “Just drop it. Or I'll call you more names in Spanish.”

You pout but go back to your notes.

 

It starts raining around 3pm and you took a lunch break at least ten minutes ago. Lightning and thunder rumbles loud enough to make Raven nearly choke on her sandwich.

“Is Raven Reyes scared of thunder?” you ask as soon as she's breathing normally.

“No. It just surprised me.” She glares at you and you only smirk.

You both stare out the kitchen window as it begins to come down in sheets. You hope it stops before your mother gets off work.

  
It doesn't stop but your mother comes in drenched at four.

“Mom! You're home early,” you say, going in for a hug as soon as she takes off her coat.  
“Someone was able to cover my two hours (that I wasn't even supposed to work) so yes. I'm home and I'm not leaving till Tuesday.” She chuckles as she lets you go and spots Raven lingering by the fridge. “Hi, you must be the Biology partner Clarke talked about...?”

“Raven,” the girls says shaking your mom's hand.

“'Raven', what a pretty name. My daughter tells me you're super smart.”

“I try to keep ahead.”

“And humble too,” your mother says with a smile. “If you're staying for dinner you girls might as well have a sleepover because that storm's not stopping for awhile.”

“There's a flood warning for this area,” your father pipes in from the door to the living room. “I can drive you home if you want Raven, but—no one should be driving in this.”

“It's fine, Mr. Griffin. I'll stay. I'm not in that much of rush to go home,” she mutters the latter sentence so that mostly you hear it.

-

Before dinner she ends up falling asleep on your bed ontop her books and papers, having migrated from sitting on the floor after lunch. You rub your eyes and set your books on the floor. You stare out the window at the rain, then at your succulents. You'd set up the lamp if it was cloudy tomorrow but they should be alright.

Raven seems smaller asleep than awake, knees pulled up to her chest. You're positive she's drooling on the notes though. You smile and look back out the window.

  
She ends up waking in a daze for dinner and slides bleary eyed into her seat. Your parents don't direct too many questions at Raven at first, your mom talking about her day. But your mom is your mom, and she's gonna prod when she's curious.

“What is your biology project about?”

You answer since Raven's mouth is full. “Basically the Big Bang Theory versus the evolution of life on Earth.”

“I have the space part, Clarke has the 'Earth' part,” Raven adds.

There's a fond smile on your mom's face. “I thought I was going to be a cosmologist before I became a doctor. Do you like space?”

Raven nods, with a particular glint in her eye that was braced for elaboration.

Your mother and Raven had a conversation that you weren't even sure used normal words. Tossing around 'barred spiral galaxies' and 'morphologies' and there was a point where Abby just listened with the same look she gives you when you're elaborating on plant life; proud and slightly in awe. Because Raven was in her element.

You and your father share a look because you both don't know how to follow what's going on.

  
When you feel a subtle sense of pride and that same weird flutter from when she called you a shit-head, you realize with a slight sinking feeling--

  
you're attracted to Raven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter seems a little tonally different and rough its because my laptop with all my poems and tone notes on it is dead for the time being so I used an 8 year old laptop w no wifi and had to upload thru my phone.
> 
> Happy new yir !


	8. to lie, of course, is to engender insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you feel the nature of your relationship has shifted backwards; Raven, a cold and distant star."
> 
> (chapter title from Anais Nin.)

_"when [she] touches you on the shoulder, the shoulder moves toward touch. When she touches you on the hip, it moves. The part should move in the direction of the touch. Don't go away from the point; go toward the place you were touched.[...]Don't change touches so fast that your partner doesn't have a chance to correct [her]self. Never retreat from a gesture, but always go on to the next gesture."_

\--"The Nikolais/Louis Dance Technique: A Philosophy and Method of Modern Dance"

By Murray Louis, Alwin Nikolais , page 105

\--

The project sessions over the next couple of days with Clarke, Raven doesn't sleep over and cuts back on the words she speaks. It seems like they've stepped back into the trial territory with each other--toeing that invisible line. Raven holds her life to her chest while Clarke--Clarke is open with her life but her thoughts... Raven definitely thinks there's more whirring around behind Clarke's pretty lashes. She clears her throat, gets back on point with her work.

"Before the big bang---all matter existed as a point called the ‘Singularity’. from the singularity, the universe rapidly expanded. If you can find a comparison point for that we're 80 percent done."

Clarke flipped to a page of her notes that she remembered indexing and glanced down at it. She replies, "’The ,uh, Cambrian Explosion was Earth's organic Big Bang then’, right? But it was more gradual. So not _as_ similar. ‘the 'explosion' happened in the middle of the Cambrian period after organisms from the beginning of the period, like reef building organisms started to die out. This freed up ecological niches for more life forms to spawn from.’" Clarke sighed. "Early algae is boring."

Raven's eyes shifted to the cacti on Clarke's windowsill, then back at Clarke as if to say " _MORE boring than CACTI?"_

"Stop throwing shade at my succulents. Algae is different. It looks like mold and it feels like...soapy hair."

Raven gives a puff of a chuckle, covering her mouth, then resumes her notes. She can feel Clarke's eyes on her but doesn't look up. Clarke shifts to look at her alarm clock, running her fingers through her long (long) blonde hair. Raven glimpses this while her eyes flit to Clarke's papers. The junior mechanic’s eyes flit up at the same time that she feels Clarke's are on her again. 

One thing about Clarke that perplexes Raven, is how freely she gives away her smiles. 

Raven's face became used to masking emotion at home...which copied over to school...which resulted in her only really smiling around Finn since she's known him forever. 

She's seen Clarke smile at the boy named Wells. It's fond, eyes crinkling at the edges. The smile she gives her father is usually sardonic, her mother, amused. But with Raven-- Raven's not sure what it is, short of Clarke being annoyed with her silence most of the time. It's what part of what clues Raven into knowing that Clarke has schemes she doesn’t speak. Eyebrow lifted, the blonde’s smile at Raven is small, possibly more polite than anything. 

Raven mimics the cocked eyebrow--something facially familiar having to deal with all kinds of bullshit. 

Clarke blinks and chuckles, her eyes crinkling at the edges though Raven has done nothing funny, and glances at her alarm clock. "We can stop for today if you'd like.”

Raven nods, fights the impulse to lean back on Clarke’s bed and leans over to pack her things into her bag.

“Oh,” Clarke drums her fingers on her thigh, “Monty’s Tech Club-- have you thought about joining, yet?”

Yes. Raven _has_ thought about spending time with four other people she doesn’t particularly know or like. There are two outcomes to joining--1) that it’d be a waste of her time, or 2) they would actually be working towards completing things in the club. She could put it on her college app. 

“Still thinking. Why?” 

Clarke shrugs, smiles. “I’m their messenger, I guess.” Clarke’s mouth twists. “They think they might have more luck of you saying ‘yes’ to joining if I bug you rather than them bugging you. They think we’re like this,” she twines her pointer and middle finger together.

Raven can’t help herself. “And what are we?”

Clarke opens her mouth as if to answer, frowns and holds her hands apart. Then she varies the distance, like one hand is magnetically attracted then repelled. As if their “relationship” depended on poles and gravity’s pull.

\--

 

 

The thing about potentially unrequited crushes - because that's what you harbored for Raven- is that the object of said crush is oblivious and it would be dangerous to ask. Asking a girl if she was a lesbian or bisexual and therefore outing herself as *not straight* or scaring Raven further away wasn't opportune for you at the moment especially as a freshman. You still wanted to be invited to parties, to be asked out to prom, etcetera and you feel like your chances of being invited anywhere wouldn't be as high if you were publicly out. 

Not that you _needed_ to stand on a pedestal and scream about it. It would just make the Raven issue easier. 

You actually thought your gaydar worked fine UNTIL her. The girl walks with the confidence of a dude but it's still...feminine, the way her hips move. You could write that off as coming from hanging around Finn and just being super self-confident? It doesn't really mean Raven's *gay*. 

You try watching who Raven's eyes fall on in the halls, if she stares at any girls that walk past, but she only looks at Finn when they're talking. She doesn’t seem to be interested in people the way you tend to...perve on her (boy does _that_ thought make you feel gross).

You mostly resign yourself to the idea that she has to be straight. "Mostly" because crushes don't let you go that easy. 

 

As you two finish up the project, she starts going home earlier, citing her mother needing her home to do dishes and other chores. You believe her because she talked briefly about how her mother didn't like her sleeping over. You can't keep her there, so she leaves consistently at 6:30pm, taking everything with her. 

One day she forgets her Bio book on the side of your bed. You text her since you don't know where she lives and she still has work to finish if you can bring it to her house. She doesn't respond that night, even when you call her. You place the book in your bag, making a note to bring it to her locker.

 

There's a knock at your door at 7:30 am. It's ten minutes before you have to catch the bus so naturally you're up and nearly ready to run out, one half of your bacon-and-egg sandwich eaten. You chase the dripping egg-yolk to your palm when you open the door expecting, in your early morning haze, one of your parents coming back for something they forgot.

"Raven?"

Okay. Definitely not your parents, then. 

She's a bit frazzled and still catching her breath, bike thrown at the base of your porch.

"Sorry I didn't--answer text---Phone dead." She holds out her hand, "Book?"

You pull it from your bag and hand it to her, "You know, I was going to just stop by your locker this morning and give it to you then."

She takes it and jams it into her pack. "I didn't know if you would. Your house was on the way, so I figured," she looks away, shrugs. "Whatever. Thanks for holding it for me, gotta go."

It made more sense for her to take the bus. That's what's on your mind when you tug on her jacket, stopping her from leaving. The briefest scowl flashes over her face before she schools it into the uh. Normal scowl she wears by default. "What?"

You hastily yank your hand back. "Um. My bus is coming in literally--," you check your watch, "five minutes. She won't be mad if you ride with me today." You can see the 'no' forming on Raven's tongue so you promise the other untouched half of her sandwich. She drums her fingers on the bike's handlebars before sighing.

"Where will I put my bike?"

You help her yank it into the kitchen, leaning it next to the table.

"Your mom won't mind this?"

You wave a hand in the air as if batting away the problem. “Come on.”

 

On the bus, you (gently) pull Raven into a seat with you by her jacket sleeve. She's distracted enough by the sandwich anyway not to fuss about it. She sits with a leg in the aisle, backpack on her lap. Five minutes after the bus moves onto it's next stop, she turns to you, looking at your feet. "Thanks," she mutters.

You beam. "No problem."

 

At the end of the day, you find her at her locker. Finn is standing next to her, talking about something you can't hear. He smiles at you when he sees you, making eye contact over Raven's shoulder since her back is to you. Raven turns slightly, and kind of grimaces at you. 

Ouch.

"Clarke. I was just gonna' swing by actually and tell you I'm actually staying after with Finn. He's gonna give me a ride home."

"What about your bike? That's...currently in my kitchen?"

"We were gonna stop by to pick it up if that's okay?" She scratches the back of her head. "I promise I'm not going to leave it there for your mom to get angry about or--"

"It's fine," you nod, plastering on a smile that hurts. You look at Finn and at Raven and your odd hope that Raven was queer, dries up. "Someone will be around, if not me."

"Thanks a lot," Raven says as she closes her locker door, offering you the tiniest smile before walking off with Finn.

\--

It’s shitty of you to get mad at something you or she has no control over so you don’t. You don’t even _do_ mad. You’re just….disappointed.

\--

They come by when you're in your room, your father answering the door. The visit isn't long enough for him to call you out for her but you think he sensed your mood.

You spy Raven and Finn from your bedroom window pedaling away on respective bikes in the opposite direction you knew her house was in. She reaches out and pushes his shoulder, so that he wobbles. He laughs, she smiles a tiny bit.

She probably rode to your house on the back of his bike--ugh--NO you are not doing that. You are not doing whatever that is.

 _You're jealous, dumbass_ , a voice says in the back of your head and you shake your head violently, focusing ultrahard on your homework. 

It didn't matter. Raven was straight anyway.

\--

You and Raven present your findings in Mr. Rose's class a week from the bus event and despite the "A", you feel the nature of your relationship has shifted backwards; Raven, a cold and distant star.

When the project is over she doesn’t glance at you past passing over the homework handouts and making glib remarks about Mr. Rose’s lesson of the day. But they’re more to herself than to you. With every half-hearted puff of air you react with you strangle the infatuation dead in your head.

\--

\--

The Club That Monty (and Wells, and Jasper) Built takes off without needing Raven's participation in the beginning (thank God). Finn, Wells, Jasper, Monty and Clarke make up the first meeting. The second brings in a kid named, “John Murphy”. 

From a mile away, Raven can see Murphy is like a shaken up can of soda ready to burst. He talks caustically, he doesn't care who he burns with his words, a basic self-defense mechanism. To make it even more negative, he also attacked. Monty seems uncomfortable with this. Wells reasons that as long as he doesn't touch anyone it should be okay. A frown settles on Clarke's face whenever Murphy speaks. 

But Raven isn't scared. She comes by when Finn asks her to check over board equations that definitely aren't his. He doesn't say whose they are in specific but from the way Murphy eyes her when she walks in...it has to be his scrawl. Clarke perks up once she enters the club's classroom, but Raven's attention is on the board. In 15 minutes she re-solves the equation, circles what was wrong in Murphy's solution and walks out. 

She can feel Murphy's eyes burning into the back of her neck.

By the third time she's called by for this, Murphy gets up and decides to open his mouth. 

"I've had enough of you bringing this bitch by to correct me. Every day she comes by, doesn't say shit to anybody like she's better than us and then leaves.”

"Murphy--," Monty tries but the kid gives him no room to speak. 

“She's not even in this club! The blonde bitch here doesn't know shit about tech but even _she's_ here all the time."

Raven still hasn't graced him with a look, still staring at the equation on the board. She finishes, circles what was wrong and places the dry-erase marker down. She can feel the heat from Murphy's glare. When he stalks closer she looks up, meeting his angry sunken eyes. 

"You think you know more than me? Sitting up here all high-and-mighty and shit?"

"Oh I _know_ that I know more than you," Raven says, folding her arms. "If you want me to stop coming by and correcting you, double-check your sloppy-ass work."

Murphy's face twitches, and he shoves Raven back. Raven recovers and throws a punch that makes his nose bleed, he cries out, hands flying to his face.

"Bitch! I'll fucking--!"

Wells and Jasper are already up pulling him back, Monty rising from his seat as a hesitant third line of defense. 

Clarke and Finn usher Raven out the door quickly, denying her a second swing at him. Raven brushes them off once they're down the hall, still staring at the classroom door, daring Murphy to come out. Finn breaks the dead stare she's in with the door by leaning into her field of vision. Clarke watches the door, a bit anxious.

"Raven--," he tries.

"I'm not coming back, Finn."

"Listen, I'm sorry I had you come here to correct him, that was stupid on my part. But the club--"

"Nobody else gives a fuck about a club that formed a month ago."

Finn’s mouth opens, closes, opens again like a fish. He turns to Clarke, who's still focused on the door like she doesn't really wanna listen to this conversation but can't really move from her spot. "Clarke--?"

She turns to Raven then Finn, her eyes wide in surprise. She points to herself. "You want me to--? Oh no, nonono, no--this is none of my--," she looks Raven in the eyes. Raven folds her arms. "Um. Sorry, Finn. You… you can't force her to be with you all the time, bud." Raven notes the odd way Clarke doesn't meet her eyes. The resignation in her tone. The blonde pats Finn on the shoulder once, awkwardly, before taking a couple of steps back, a foot nervously tapping.

"But...wha?" Finn splutters.

Clarke puts her hands out palms up in a shrug and a grimace as if to say it wasn't her problem, “I have a thing I have to go do.” She hurries past Raven without a second glance.

Raven huffs and leaves Finn in the hallway with confusion frozen on his face. She thought it'd make sense that she didn't want to stick around given what just happened-- but _God_ , was Finn slow.

_“You can't force her to be with you all the time...”_

Raven stops in front of her bike. 

Why did that sound so weird coming from Clarke? Maybe she thought they were dating?

She swings a leg over bike and pedals. It wouldn't be the first time someone's thought that.They could think what they liked she really didn’t give two shits. 

If she _did_ waste her time with something like dating, they'd have to be as smart as her but not arrogant. But not a pushover. She'd like someone that wouldn't be so scared to argue with her--like Clarke had before.

Raven snorts as she rolls past the local florist’s shop. Dating someone who’s clearly in love with cacti? Nope. She’s not going down that path.

\--

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! sorry for the not-as-fluffy fic update, typos, and any clunkiness of theme or phrase etc. 
> 
> This marks the end of what I estimate to be their freshman year *phase* of forced friendship because i felt like sophomore year and upwards would cue all the partying and Clarke sort of becoming more of the popular "it" girl, with Raven occupying the other end as a Wannabe Bad Girl-Outcast Nerd. Idk i get to throw in more of their familiar snarkyness. You'll see....eventually. oTL 
> 
> Thank you for reading! (comments, and the lack of non-smut clarke/raven centered fic, are what keep me going ironically lol)
> 
> -
> 
> *Also can I just say: GAIA KOM TRIKRU IS BEAUTIFUL AF AAAHHHHH*


	9. i'll be a thorn in your side

The summer before sophomore year starts and the month before Raven goes to her Tio's, she glances at Clarke's number in her phone while scrolling to Finn's and pauses. 

She _does_ have enough contacts in her phone to make getting to Finn’s name a chore; (Anya had nabbed her phone the summer before high school, putting her sweaty palms all over it saying, _"You don't have our numbers, do you?"_ And Raven, despite her protest, ended up getting at least ten to twelve numbers that day that she sees in group chats that she _never_ replies to.

)

Clarke's is the only number she's gotten purely from being in the some high school, working on the same project. She really should delete it… but she doesn't. Out of laziness, she leaves it alone. 

Raven remembers with annoyance that she really doesn't even need a phone to meet up with Clarke or the Griffins-- not when she lives just over the hill and Raven can see Mr. Griffin now as she comes down on her bike. He's taking marigolds out of their plastic pots and putting them into a row in the ground, along the frontside of their house. 

They're for Clarke-- Raven knows this because who else in the house waxes poetic over vegetables? Certainly not Mrs. Griffin. 

Raven pedals across the street, out of Mr. Griffin's eye. The Reyes's have run out of milk and Raven's mother is too fucking lazy so Raven had snagged a ten and --what the hell--a five dollar bill from the kitchen counter before she left the house. She'd even attached her carrying crate to the back of her bike; riding with two gallons of milk attached to her handlebars was unfun and messy and led to her narrowly avoiding getting flattened by a garbage truck.

The grocery store was latino-owned like many in the area-- that didn't mean other people don't also shop there (black, asian, etc) but white people stood out like sore thumbs. 

(Come over to OUR side? To get SPICES ??? Must be "taco night" with the family.)

Raven, with milk and four mangoes in her shopping cart, ready to check out, turns down the seasoning aisle without looking up. 

When she finally does, she's too far down the aisle to turn around.

_Shit. Shit!_

Raven feels a headache coming on. She's positive she does because standing ten feet away from her is Sore Thumb #1- Plant Girl. Princess. She wonders, if she avoids thinking the girl's real name, this interaction will have a lower chance of happening.

 _Cacti Lover._ Nope. Getting closer she feels the air shift-- it isn't just the lack of good air conditioning on this side of the store either. Princess's eyes are on a box of chicken-flavored bouillon cubes, while also holding a jar of recaito in her other hand. Her brow is furrowed and she hasn't blinked since Raven rolled up, so either she knows she's there....or she's lost in...deep...thought?

Raven sighs and stops. She’s doing this out of the goodness of her own heart. 

"What are you doing," she asks, blunt. 

Clarke, to her credit, doesn't jump. Maybe she fumbles the recaito a little bit but she slowly turns her head to Raven. Blinks. Eyebrows furrowing lower. "Seasoning....chicken?"

"With chicken flavored bouillon cubes. And recaito."

"Uh. I don't, um. Cook? This store was closer than the...other."

Of course it was. Raven's being a good person but she isn't going to hook the girl up with her grandmother's _Arroz con Pollo_ or anything. She takes both (poorly chosen) items out of Clarke's hands, sets them on the shelf and pulls down the seasoning that will confuse the least. The one that's never done anyone wrong. 

"Adobo," she says, placing it into Clarke's hand. 

"Oh...okay. Thanks?"

Raven tosses her hand like she's swatting a fly, already pushing her cart past Clarke. 

-

She realizes after her items are bagged that she'd called 'Clarke' by name several times towards the end of her interaction--solidifying Clarke's confused pout in her memory for at least an agonizing month or so. 

She's hypothesizing from the time she'd wasted trying to take apart Clarke's nervous aide after school--after "Murphy"happened.

 

-

Clarke has a bike.

Clarke has a bike and is riding in the same direction as Raven because they live in the same direction and you know-- how _else_ would Clarke choose to bring her groceries back home. Raven can't blame her for that. The girl's bike is a baby-blue and some sort of Huffy mountain design. She has a front basket (Raven thinks those are dorky as fuck) but she carries her groceries in her school bookbag. The keychains jingle with her movement, filling the absence of a conversation. 

Raven doesn't speed up, because she's hot and tired and has a Headache.

Raven doesn't speed up, because Clarke goes her own pace at least a half-a-bike's gap behind and to her left and that was Good Enough.

She doesn't speed up because the area they pass through is where she's seen other kids on bikes get jumped before- around this time- and it's to Raven's advantage to be seen with someone else rather than alone, like how they probably saw Raven come down. 

It's not because she _owes_ Clarke anything. 

Raven has her number in her cell phone and it stares at her everytime she opens her contact list. 

Clarke grows cacti to stare at on her windowsill, while Raven eats it in _nopal_. (When her mother makes it. When she can go down to the Taqueria on 4th.) 

Raven stops when they reach Clarke's yard because Mr. Griffin makes eye-contact and grins. Formalities and how-do-you-do's ensue with him while Clarke lingers behind him with her bike, hiding her amusement behind a hand. 

"Any summer plans?" he asks and Raven decides to offer just this much information to him. She did have dinner and breakfast and probably lunch all the times she was over, free of charge. 

"Farming with my uncle upstate." 

Dad-Griffin is pleasantly surprised. Clarke is. Surprised, probably because Raven offered this info to him easily, to her by proxy. 

"Wow, have fun out there then! That---it IS fun, isn't it?"

Raven nods, smiles small. "Most of the time."

"I'm sure Clarke would love it if--"

"Dad!"

"If you texted her some pictures. She _paints_ , you know."

Clare covers her mouth and leans her elbows against the handlebars of her bike. "She _knows_ , dad.”He smiles down at her impishly. 

"I know," Raven nods, remembering the butterflies and the bright red bird hanging above Clarke’s bed. 

"You do have each other's numbers, right?"

Raven's tempted to chuckle at Clarke burying her head further into her arms and groaning the longest "ugh" Raven's ever heard, stopping when Raven responds, "We do." Clarke takes her head out of its hiding place and--there's the Confused Pout again--directed at Raven instead of seasoning this time.

She has to go. The milk sloshes audibly as she eases weight back onto her bike's pedals, moving slowly towards the hill. "See you later," she offers with a lazy wave of her hand. She hears a warm good-bye from Dad-Griffin but Clarke is as silent as the bike ride back home.

Raven postulates Clarke's lack of response meant she deleted the number but the evidence of the Confused Pout weighed against it. 

Raven shakes her head, focuses on figuring out where to hide her mangoes so her mom won't get to them instead.

\--

(Raven hadn't heard the weak "see you whenever" Clarke had mumbled, hand against her mouth.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short little update compared to how long i make every other chapter. lmao.


	10. snap out of it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sum special pals are back for summer B)
> 
> (mentions of underage drinking in this chap)

The best thing to do would be to completely cut off all ties with Raven...which in theory and practice should be easy enough, seeing as Raven flew as solo as they came. The image of Finn and Raven riding off into the distance replayed like a bad VHS recording--like someone had taped over whatever positive you’d tried to take from a moment that. Also wasn’t yours. 

It jarred your natural thought so much as you sat at your desk drawing that you had to force yourself outside, an unfinished sketch of a figure on a bike (erased multiple times) placed at the back of your sketchbook. 

Wells lived a neighborhood over and you’d walk down to the creek with him, sun beating overhead. It felt like you were cleaner there, pant cuffs rolled up to your knees, looking for smooth stones but finding yellow-legged frogs, letting them jump out of your hand at Wells who was squeamish with creatures that were small. 

You were mindful of the boy’s crush, how it spread his grins wider, how it made his eyes sparkle. You thought , once or twice that it was too easy to dash his heart against a stone, lying by saying you reciprocated his infatuation. So you don’t say anything as long as he doesn’t ask.

But the problem _is_ that he _doesn’t ask_ when he leans into your space one evening and places a peck of a kiss on your lips.

“Dude, what the _fuck_.”

You’re angry for two reasons: 1) that he took your choice from you no matter how mild and well-intentioned, 2) that his eyes hollow in his frantic apology once your face and mouth make it clear you don’t feel the same. 

You don’t speak for two weeks--not that he doesn’t try to call you and text you, but that you don’t accept his calls or reply to his messages. Your heart aches. 

You scroll past Raven’s name to get to Wells in your contact list, to stare at the open comment box, emptiness glaring at you. You turn your phone off and sink into your pillows on your side, staring at your painting of the summer tanager before your eyes close. 

-

You wouldn’t describe yourself as bashful ( _mimosa pudica;_ the “touch-me-not” plant more up Raven’s alley it seemed) but you do feel like you want to curl into yourself. So you don’t. You reach out-- pick up the phone to call Octavia (and Bellamy too you guess, by association). You haven’t heard from or spoken to them in at least a month. But no one answers your call. Your father stops by your room, looking in at you, sprawled halfway off the bed, head hanging close to the floor.

“Honey? You okay?”

“I’m _distraught,”_ you shift your head to look at him. “O’ and Bell’ won’t pick up the phone.”

“What about Wells? Or Raven even. Ask her how her summer vacations going.”

“I...spoke to Wells the other day.” A fib. “And Raven wouldn’t want to be bothered.” A _definite_ truth.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s just how she is,” you shrug and sit up. 

As your father takes a breath, there’s a knock at the door downstairs. You follow your father and lurk near the bottom of the steps to see who’s here. Your mother isn’t due back from work till later. 

“Hi, Mr. Griffin! Is Clarke home?”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Your dad steps out of the way with a chuckle.

“Come in and see for yourself.”

Octavia steps in first and you both screech incomprehensible excited hello’s before flinging your arms round each other. She’s sturdier than you remember; they did mention JROTC training off and on so you guess she’s really taken to it. Bellamy is definitely taller and his greeting is a rare smile with both arms wrapped around your back. Standing between the two, you climb out of the hole you’ve been wallowing in and become “you” again, ready for summer’s adventures. 

-

Octavia gushes about their Aunt Indra like she’s a real life warrior-- “She has, like, a MILLION medals, Clarke”-- a decorated veteran with a daughter she never talks about but keeps one photo of in her bedroom. Octavia knows because she’d snooped a little. Bellamy amends that she was nosy as fuck and gets a punch to the arm. 

The older Blake sibling seems to think Indra’s “okay” but according to Octavia he’s not home enough to speak on that. You remember he’ll graduate first and the thought of the Blake siblings being separated chills you to the marrow. 

If it were to happen, you’d think Octavia would want to strike out on her own and Bellamy would want to follow to protect her. 

You laugh to yourself because she wouldn’t like that _at all_. Especially not now, her posture straighter, her eyes more attentive. From the hard set of her jawline and the deep timbre of Bellamy’s voice, the Blake siblings hit puberty _wonderfully._

Octavia comments that “you’ve _changed_ ” wiggling her eyebrows and glancing at your chest over exaggeratedly before you can say _anything_ about how pretty they got and you just hide your face in your hands while Bellamy looks at the ceiling awkwardly. Octavia cackles like a mad woman.

“We wanted to tell you when we got here that we’re moving back! Not back to our old house or this neighborhood exactly but-- here I’ll write down our new address.” Octavia helps herself to the stuff on your desk to search for a slip of scrap paper.

“O’ forgot to give you our new number, didn’t she,” Bellamy chimes in with a smirk.

“It’s not my fault I forgot to! Everything got busy! We were packing and--uh--you’re the older one anyway, so aren’t you supposed to be more responsible?”

You smile as they bicker, familiarity washing over you.

-

Wells braves your doorstep one afternoon-- before you’re set to go with Octavia and Bellamy downtown. He’s nervous but as soon as you make eye-contact with him he says, “I’m--I know I sound like a broken record by now but I’m _so sorry_. I know that it was shitty of me to assume and not ask--and. I got you these-,” he thrusts a bouquet of purple hyacinths at you. You blink but before you can say anything he rambles on. “They’re not a -- they’re an apology. I mean I looked it up? And they literally mean ‘I’m sorry’. I thought it was better to speak your, uh, language. ”

You take his foray into floriography and before he can launch into another apologetic ramble, you hug him and he settles. 

You stick the flowers into a tall cup of water for now and turn back to Wells who sits at the kitchen table, twiddling his thumbs. Octavia and Bellamy he might not remember and vice-versa for the Blakes remembering him since he left so long ago and spoke to them maybe once but… what the hell. 

“Wanna’ come with me and the Blake siblings downtown?”

Wells’ smile is tentative then full, dimpled and sunny. “I’m free. Sure, I’ll come with.”

And that’s how your group starts to amass more people. Once you’re downtown at the mall, you spot Jasper and Monty and a girl named Harper that you’ve never met before. She sticks to Monty’s side but is able to participate in the convo Jasper and Monty are holding about Star Trek or whatever other nerdy thing that you have no grasp on. She has a brightness that Octavia seems to latch onto immediately. You all conglomerate at the mall’s food court, stuffing your faces with pizza.

Your mind stops jittering like a bad tape recording as you laugh at the story Octavia’s telling of how she managed to piss off both her Gunnery Sergeants. 

And then, in the corner of your eye you see a mop of brown hair, steadily making its way towards your group. You put down your pizza feeling ill. 

Raven’s very close male friend has arrived. You were able to deal with him in club so you _should_ be able to deal with him here. By ignoring him. He talks to Monty (about what, you don’t care) and you find your eyes stuck on the side of his face. Trying to imagine what Raven would feel for this wet blanket of a boy. 

Okay, so, he does seem attractive you _guess_ from an angle and he was “nice”. Wore his heart on his sleeve-- but see. That’s the opposite of who you’re actually drawn to. You look down at your pizza slice or the half that’s left. 

Raven had shown you pieces of herself, fragments of what you’d say is a mosaic….locked in a... basement. Or with less of your sappy angelic analogy fueled by residual infatuation: it’s like you’d picked up some puzzle pieces she’d dropped and she’d snatched _most_ of them back.

Most.

Your finger itches to scroll through your contacts again for something, anything to do than look at this kid but you still your hand. Everyone who actually cares about you as far as non-family is _here._ You turn your phone face down. 

“You gonna finish that?” Finn asks, leaning close but not in your space across the table. 

You take a deep breath. Remind yourself that those puppy-dog eyes mean no harm. You let out the breath. 

“Have at it.” You push the plate towards him and his eyes light up like it’s Christmas.

\--

Octavia, though capable of being more composed and still, suggests a party. With alcohol. Bellamy and you sigh. Jasper grins and says he knows a guy and suddenly plans are made to hit up a house on Riverside.

A part of you calls yourself stupid for even thinking of going. The part of you that’s curious is louder and gets you to lie to your parents that you’re staying over at Octavia’s. And you know they won’t think to question. You technically _are_ going back to the Blake siblings’ new house though. Bellamy is the designated driver and is very grumpy about it. 

-

The party is a fucking drag but you do get sorta tipsy off of cheap beer you snag and drink before you’re out of the car and inside the Blake residence. You remember laying down next to an already snoring Octavia in her king-size bed and picking up your phone. You’re gonna send Wells a funny picture of a cat, you think to yourself, giggling.

-

The next morning with aspirin and cottonmouth, you open up your phone to check your messages.

Oh.

Oh no.

Your stomach plummets as you look at your sent message list. You’d definitely done a bad. You didn’t drunk text _Wells_ last night.

You’d drunk texted Raven.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, writing this chapter: " think i need clarke to just g e n t l y fuck up" 
> 
> -
> 
> when i said slow-burn i meant slow burn y'all. this is where it picks up with them settling into being comfortable "yanking on each other's ponytails" so to speak bc to have done it earlier on it felt forced. i realized i have to kinda wait till they reach more of their canon personas which is confidence and a lil bit of trauma that at least clarke doesn't have yet...
> 
> but i take ref from @cloogle 's "Happy Agony" on fanfiction (dot) net tbh that was a monster of a slow burn fic.  
> -  
> also looking into a small cheapo tablet i can use for typing purposes for like 50 bucks b/c the way im currently set up makes me not want to write lol.


	11. without losing a piece of me, how do i get to heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cat memes & sending pics to ur non-gf & meeting girls that might be deities at rock parties/ or just meeting girls meant for something more & "you are so closed but you still can open up, why can't I open up"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are some special cameos in this one y'all i hope you like them!

Raven gets a cat meme from Clarke in the middle of the fucking night (in “Impact” font, a terrible joke about 'pussy') and sends back three question marks back in her haze of annoyance for being woken up. Then closes her eyes again.

When the joke from the picture finally sinks in (‘If I lick myself, that means I eat pussy” over a wide eyed tabby cat) in the morning over breakfast, Raven chokes on a cheerio. She leaves the message on 'read' right up until her phone beeps again while she's over watching Anya's band practice. Or, really, watches them goof off because they're waiting on their drummer to come back from an errand.

Anya swipes the phone from Raven's hand at the beeping noise--

"Oooh, who's thiiis? A girlfriend?" she sings, laughs really as she reads the next text aloud, "'Sorry, I meant to send that pic to another person as a joke…’" Before Raven can stop her, Anya types out a reply and hits send. Raven manages to snatch her phone back in a leap and glares down at what Anya typed.

\- _if u wanted to get w/me Griffin jst say so ;)_

Raven curses loudly and chases Anya down, near tripping over a cymbal. Lincoln steps in between them with a heavy sigh. "We have to get back to practicing." When Raven gets back to her phone, Clarke's sent back the "look" emoji (two eyes) and nothing more.

 **Raven:** sry. my stupid friend typd that n was being stupid.

 **Clarke:** okay...

There's a lull where Raven debates the time and effort it will take to hold a text convo with Clarke but her phone vibrates again. She's sent Raven a picture of Grumpy Cat.

 **Clarke:** there. it's u

Raven's mouth twists into a smirk and she doesn't realize she's held an actual conversation with all the effort entailed until Anya teases her for smirking down at her phone.

(texting isn't that bad when you use the least amount of syllables and correct almost none of your typos)

-

Because Raven has a lot of awkwardly spaced downtime when out running errands or on the farm, waiting to switch to another task, she remembers Clarke's dad asked her to send pictures. And it IS pretty out, despite the cowpies. She snaps a photo of the sunset behind the tops of the trees, makes sure its not too blurry and sends the photo when she's back within messaging range without comment.

She takes a nap and wakes up to two 'dings'.

**Clarke:**

-!!!

-So pretty!

-Oh

-u know u didn't have 2 do what my dad said

-I dnt wanna bothr u or take time away from your trip..

**Raven:**

-its fine

-it takes like 2 secs to snap a pic

-n im not a photographer or nething

**Clarke:**

-it’s a nice pic tho thanx!!

Raven decides to leave the conversation hanging there, going back to sleep til morning.

-

Raven ends up sending a bunch more photos, realizing more than once that she’s thought ‘Clarke would like to paint this, probably’ and forcing herself to not care. It’s easier because of the distance, because Clarke’s father asked Raven to send Clarke pics, not Clarke herself. She’s sent maybe eight so far. She figures ten is a good stopping point maybe?

There was a cactus smack dab in the middle of the dryland though, out past the market and the rest of the town, that was perfect. She’d snickered at it and framed it to the right, the rest of the picture filled with tan sand and grass and blue empty sky. This one she doesn’t send captionless, typing out a quick “found ur kid”.

Raven’s phone vibrates on her way back to the ranch.

**Clarke:**

-tell him mother says hello!!!

Raven huffs out a laugh and almost walks into her Tio who’s carrying three crates with tins stacked up inside of them.

“I swear those cell phones are the Devil. Put that down and help me with these.”

“Yes, Tio.”

The trek to the barn is silent aside from the clanking of the tins against each other. Then--

“It isn’t a _boy,_ is it?”

Raven laughs out of surprise, almost drops the crate she’s carrying and has to readjust her grip with a wheeze.

“No, Tio. God, no. A friend said something _funny_.”

He leaves the topic alone after that, looking uncomfortable. Once they’re in the barn, Raven realizes she’d referred to Clarke as a ‘friend’ and actually succeeds in dropping the crate on her foot.

Her Tio berates her for the string of profanity she spills out but gets her an ice pack with a shake of her head.

-

She’s at Anya’s band practice again when she sends the _tenth_ picture. Anya’s caught mid headbang (-toss? headshake? It’s more effortless than a bang) and her hair is fanned out in the air, blonde-brown strands in an arc and lit fiery by the Sun. It took Raven three tries over the course of the song to get a photo that was actually in-focus.

The downside to scoring the shot of Anya is that Anya snatches up Raven’s phone when Raven sets it down to open up a soda, the last photo she sent to Clarke still visible in the message box.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice you taking pictures to send to your giiiirllfrriieend?” Anya croons, dancing out of Raven’s reach.

Raven stands up, free hand on her hip, glaring, when there’s a click from her phone.

Anya took a picture of her.

Raven lurches forward for Anya's hand but Anya, too quick and too tall, leans back and snickers. She presses a hand to a button. “Aaand send.”

“I’m going to _kill_ you,” Raven snatches the phone back and kicks Anya in the shin, “She’s not my girlfriend!” Another scuffle that Lincoln has to break up.

When she gets back to her phone, seeing her annoyed face staring back at her, she winces and fires off quick damage control--

**Raven:**

-that

-wsnt part of wht i mnt to snd. That was my stupid frnd. Again.

-I’m gnna stab her in th throat one day i swear

Raven stares at the message box for a whole minute before pocketing her phone. She’d understand that Raven wasn’t self-obsessed or anything, right?

**Clarke:**

:D

It’s a nice picture though???

Dont kill her raven

U’ll nvr become an astrophyscicist if u do

Not w a CRIMINAL RECORD

**Raven:**

Fine

I guess she stays alive 4 now...

\--

It’s pretty quiet text-wise with Clarke afterwards and Raven isn’t sure what to think. Maybe be grateful she isn’t clinging to her. Maybe Clarke got Raven’s point too well of Raven wanting to be left alone?

Or, maybe Clarke had more things to worry about at the moment. She was busy. That was all.

\--

Clarke sends a belated ‘thank you for sendin me pics 2 draw from!’ and Raven replies with a painfully short ‘np’ despite her worries earlier.

\--

The young mechanic might not be able to go to one of The Grounders’ bar performances, but a house party? Thrown at Anya’s own house that she’s never been to before? She’s there early helping set up before the randos float in.

“Lincoln, watch the kid and makes sure she doesn’t touch the drink while I check on something.”

“Hey!” Raven takes offense to ‘kid’ and all similar terms but Anya’s already gone.

When Lincoln’s back is turned, Raven nabs a Heineken and takes a big swallow. She splutters over the kitchen sink where no one can see her.

“First time drinking?”

Where she _thought_ no one could see her. She wipes her mouth before turning around. It’s one of the party randoms-- a girl a little taller than Raven with dark skin and dreadlocks pulled back from her face with a cream colored bandana. One dread is white and Raven is sidetracked by wanting to ask if she dyed it before or after loc’ing her hair so she forgets to answer the question as rudely as she’d intended.

“I- yes.” obviously. “It tastes like--”

“Gas? Piss?” The girl supplants and laughs a sound like bells when Raven nods. The girl smooths down the hem of her frayed Grounder rock tee-- homemade probably because Raven’s never seen any concrete merch for the band. “Beer really is just nasty however it’s made.”

Raven tilts the bottle back, grimaces as she swallows. She nods at the girl’s shirt. “You make that yourself?”

“Oh, of course-- they haven't had much of an online store since I can’t remember when. And they never had shirts,” she shrugs,” If I’m gonna be their biggest fan I’ll design the shirts _myself_.” She puts one hand on her hip and Raven’s reminded of Anya-- but this girl’s less abrasive, kinder. She clasps her fingers in front of herself with a grin, arching an eyebrow. “So. How long have you been into The Grounders? What’s your favorite song?”

Raven nearly chokes on her drink with a laugh because she is the _worst_ “fan” compared to someone like the girl in front of her, yet has all the backstage access. She doesn’t tell the fan that she’d hated the lead singer at first sight, but keeps her answers short and as honest as she can.

“Uhhh. About a year? Maybe two? I like ‘Duty’ the most, I think.” _That’s the one they always run through,_ Raven berates herself.

The Grounders number one fan just seems genuinely happy to speak to someone close to her age. Raven lets it slip that she’s ‘sometimes’ at their practices and the girl gets stars in her eyes.

“Oh my god. That means you’ve been close to Anya! What’s she like ‘off-stage’?”

“Uh--” Raven’s interrupted by the woman in question strolling into the kitchen and setting down hard ciders on the counter. She turns and, snatches the beer bottle out of Raven’s hand and flicks her on the forehead. “Ow! Fuck you.”

“I told you not to touch the beers,” Anya says. She drinks from Raven’s bottle while the fan watches in gobsmacked awe, Raven in disgust.

“I put my lips on that.”

“You don’t have _syphilis_ , do you?” Anya retorts, then finally notices they have company. ”Hey,” she says nonchalant, “thanks for making it--” she waits for a name.

The fan blinks, “ Gaia. It- It’s Gaia.”

Raven regrets not asking her earlier, because it sounded really pretty and matched her demeanor. Ordinarily she’d think, _who’d be pretentious enough to name their child after a deity. And a real hippie name at that._ But the way the girl smiles and gestures with her hands talking to Anya--floating and non-frantic even though she’s excited to see her; the way Gaia’s smile even softens Anya’s face to reciprocate, Raven thinks that she was named aptly. If it hadn’t been for Anya she probably would have walked off never knowing.

Something occurs to Anya in the middle of the conversation, her brow furrows then her eyebrows arch as she snaps her fingers in recognition. “Oh. Duh. You’re _that_ Gaia. I’m sorry I should’ve remembered sooner. I have something for you--,” she shoves her beer at Raven to hold and Raven takes it but grumbles “you’re a mess” retaliation.

Anya reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a guitar pick-- it’s colors shine even in the dim kitchen light. Like fire embers. “‘The Flame’. For our number one fan.” Anya’s initials are on the back. Gaia takes it reverently, eyes wide.

“Your pick from when the Grounders first started playing! Thank you so much! Can I-- can I hug you?”

Anya rolls her eyes good-naturedly but allows it. Gaia hugs hard and quicker than expected, stepping back with her grin still intact. “I have to go blog about this now. But thank you!” Gaia gushes again and runs off into the living room.

Raven narrows your eyes at Anya who takes the beer back. “You gave your number one fan a piece of plastic.”

“Not a piece of plastic--” Anya sounds offended. “That was my pick from my first show with the band, crafted from glass and tortoiseshell. I’m starting to miss it a little bit now.”

The fact that Anya gave something like that to “their number one fan” convinces Raven of Anya’s softness and it almost disturbs her to see her mask fall even a little. Even someone that comes across as terrible as Anya can open up.

“Don’t you have to play soon?” Raven asks pointedly, so she can go back to hating Anya from a distance.

The drums sound from the other room. Anya sets the empty beer bottle on the counter and yanks on Raven’s ponytail. “Don’t stand in the kitchen and grump all night. You can send your girlfriend a _video_ of us this time.”

“She is _not_ my girlfriend!” Raven yells after her but Anya’s already in the living room.

To be petty (but mostly because her phone won’t record well enough videos without light) Raven doesn’t record or take pictures aside from the one as she stands in the door frame of the kitchen, looking at the crowd bouncing and thrashing around. In the photo she catches Gaia near the front, smiling, arms up and Anya with an open-mouthed smile as she sings, eyes closed. This one isn’t for Clarke. This one is for her own safekeeping.

After they run through three more songs, the noise begins to get to Raven so she wanders back through the kitchen, steals a hard cider from the icebox and carefully heads up the stairs. One of the rooms has to be Anya’s, she reasons.

The first door that’s ajar is the upstairs bathroom and though technically she _could_ spend the rest of her time in there, she filed it as a last resort and moved down to the next cracked open door. It’s so quiet that she doesn’t expect a person to be inside when she pushes it open wider, but Raven Reyes _has_ been wrong before.

“Shit--,” Raven curses. There’s a girl sitting on the bed, reading a book with headphones partially in, now staring up at Raven’s intrusion with wide green eyes. “I’m sorry, I’ll just--,” she sighs. “I was looking for someplace quiet-- Anya’s room?”

The girl slides the headphones the rest of the way off her head, and away from her long wavy brown hair. She shakes her head minutely. “Anya locks her door when she has company. But I don’t mind if you sit in here if it’s quiet you want.” She pronounces her words very clearly. Daintily almost and Raven realizes that english probably isn’t her first language.

“Um. Thank you but I don’t mean to interrupt your. Uh, “ alcohol did _not_ make this situation easy at all.

The girl just flaps her hand and stands, ushering Raven forward while closing the door behind her. “Sit anywhere you’d like.” Raven decides the desk chair is a more neutral place than the girl’s bed but more comfortable than the floor. She scoots the chair out so she isn’t touching any of the girl’s-- very nicely put to the side-- things.

“I’m Lexa, by the way.”

“Raven. Nice to meet you. Are you, uh, Anya’s…?”

“She’s my older sister.”

Oh. That explained Lexa’s high cheekbones, Raven guessed. And her height (she was taller than Raven but shorter than Anya).

“How are you okay with Anya throwing a fucking rager in your house?” Raven blurts.

Lexa shrugs. “My headphones are noise canceling and no one ever comes up here-- except. You, right now.” She frowns at the door. “I usually close it around this time anyway when she has people over.

“Hmm,” Raven mumbles. Because in her house she always closes and _locks_ her door when her mother has a man over. “You think you’re safe just closing it?”

“I know I can manage,” Lexa replies with a small smile. “I’m a sixth dan Black belt, and a level five in Krav Maga.”

Raven notices the medals and belts and other awards sitting on Lexa’s bookshelf and can’t help but nod, impressed. Her eyes flicker to a photo tacked to the bulletin board above Lexa’s desk. It’s of Lexa and another girl with darker skin kissing each other. Both have their eyes closed. Raven blinks.

She doesn’t mean for her voice to come out soft even though she clears her throat three times before, but it does anyway. She’ll blame it on the (embarrassingly small amount of) alcohol. “What’s it like,” she asks still looking at the picture. The question tumbles out of her, “being in a relationship, like that?”

Raven thinks it's the tone of her voice that the phrase “like that” doesn’t strike Lexa’s ire -- that or Lexa’s just naturally calm. Lexa looks at the photo, eyes going soft before looking at Raven. Raven doesn’t turn to meet Lexa’s eyes, so Lexa speaks to her profile.

“It’s like having the Sun in your chest.”

Raven turns at that. “Doesn’t it get to be too much, then?”

Lexa shakes her head, and looks at the photo again. 

 

“With her, I’m balanced.”

 

-

 

Raven dozes off sometime after and wakes up to Anya pinching her cheek.

“C’mon kid. Wake-up! Why’d you come all the way up to my sister’s room anyway,” she grumbles.

“Yer’ so….loud. All the time,” Raven slurs, more from drowsiness than tipsiness. “Wanted quiet.”

“I’m not loud _all_ the time.”

“Sssssshhh,” Raven waves a finger in front of Anya’s face and can hear Lexa chuckle from her bed.

Anya huffs and snakes one arm under Raven’s knees and the other behind her back, lifting her up in a bridal-carry. “We’re taking you home now. Say bye.”

“Fuck you, don’t tell me what to do.”

“I _will_ drop you.”

Raven waves around Anya’s shoulder at Lexa who reciprocates, amused expression staying even after turning back to her book.

\--

 

Raven dreams of binary systems -- two stars spinning around and around each other.

An undulating tug of war until they collide in an explosion of light.

 

-

 

 

_“it is not so easy being your own Universe_

_it is not so easy to carry the stars_

_in a world full of darkness”._

_-s. ajna_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im amazed that gaia still doesn't show up anywhere on ao3 except in like two fics. no main fics around her either. guess i gotta be the one, huh? lol. thinking about a one shot thing for her. have to see where this story leads.
> 
> i ordered a small tablet and keyboard so i can update more reliably. im estimating around 20 something chapters. thinking about stretching it beyond that makes me ill. sorry for any typos (actually please tell me so i can edit them.) tried to fix it to the formatting i originally had.
> 
> i read all comments even if i dont reply right away. I appreciate all of you that follow this slowass story (3000+ hits and all the kudos are amazing thank you). 
> 
>  
> 
> \--
> 
> nonrelated: Can't believe Lindsey Morgan is really Batgirl!! Can't believe instead of a female writer/director they got Whedon :///


	12. if I survive I'll dive back in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> parties where Clarke doesn't party correctly. Bellamy quotes shakespeare. Raven's #done with her peers.
> 
> (underaged drinking.
> 
> chap title from paramore's "pool")

The change was gradual-- until it wasn't.

You went from teenager to TEENager (partying, drinking, mall squatting) over the course of the summer. and, your mother was none too pleased but your mother seemed to be less and less pleased with you the more you talk about plants and art instead of bone marrow and corded muscle. 

She'd call the partying "teenage rebellion", you just wanted to breathe. 

Abby would do it in bits, mention your big, wide future and then ironically narrow it down to "what makes money". 

_"I want you to be fiscally capable of taking care of yourself. You know why they call it being a 'starving artist', honey."_

She didn't even ask what you wanted to be specifically or to have a dialogue, just that-- "you should do what i want you to do because i know best" tone. 

Your dad is more understanding of course and tries to mediate but it often ends in broken conversation, anytime the future is brought up around mom. The whole situation is. Ironic. Because mom is telling you how to be an adult without you actually BEIng an adult and without letting you discuss (a supposedly adult *talent*).

The alcohol isn't a salve-- you don’t like how it tastes all the time but it loosens your tongue. you are saying your yes's and no's as you mean them (not how others would want you to say them) and at least at a party you get that release. sometimes you don't drink. you watch people. if you bring your sketchbook, to octavia's dismay, you sketch people. you are less afraid in this setting to experiment and be seen drawing.

You work your way down quick caricatures of your friends depending on who's with you: from the sturdiness of Wells's jaw to Bellamy's rare laugh; from Octavia's jawline cut from stone to Murphy's goofy grin. They stoop and watch behind you sometimes-- "you're a good drawer, you know that" drunkenly proffered and you laugh and take it. Sometimes Octavia snatches the book away and drags you to where the people are, much like now. A circle of people around a bottle.

Finn sits across from you. He's been trying to befriend you for much of the summer. You look at him and the image of Raven riding alongside him is faint but still attached. Over this stretch of him trying to get closer to you and you offering only pieces of yourself you find that he's a dreamer. His heart is good though he doesn't know where to aim his kindness. You think "Peace Corp" before you think "military".

As per the divine spin of the bottle, you kiss him in a closet and he tastes like the beer Bellamy brought. Boys are easy with what they want, you've learned. It never seems enough to keep you tethered. It's mindless until you make the mistake of thinking about Raven's hands the moment his hands land on your hips. You think, his are too wide and he is too tall and the bottom of his face is too rough--- but then it's over.

He looks at you like he's found _something_ and you avoid his eyes, thinking "not again", leaving the party early that night.

\--

You've painted most of Raven's photos on A4 watercolor paper and posted them above your bed. It's been a month or two since she's sent them (one month now from going back to school). You've painted most except the one of her. 

That's part of the reason, subconsciously you guess, that you've been sketching your friends at parties. Trying to get better so that when you start her drawing, if she ever sees a drawing you've done of her...it won't be as shitty. And you've definitely progressed from your first sketch. 

It just feels strange now: you, still in this liminal space with a girl you're too afraid to text for normal conversation.

\--

You happen across Her so casually at a party you wonder who’s out to get you.

Bellamy’s quoting Shakespeare drunk (because of course the fucking nerd would); 

"'To give away yourself, keeps your self still,

And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill,'" he recites. "Sonnet 16."

You'd jokingly asked for advice on romance and he'd said this, a hand on your shoulder, eyebrows raised faux-sagely. You'd brushed his hand off but had given the quote a pass.

The circle you’re in implores him for more quotes, laughing in good nature, a strange circle around a strange "wise man", dimples showing in his cheeks. Your eyes drift as you step back from them, remember that there are nachos in the kitchen somewhere.

Raven’s tucked into a nook between the fridge and the sink, holding a beer in her hands. Her hair is down and wavy. When she turns to you, her bored eyes twinkle a little but her demeanor is still similar to the day she came to your house early; sullen, the folded arms in front of her holding fragments together. 

You raise your eyebrows, take a stab at her issues that you normally wouldn’t if you weren’t tipsy. Hopeful you’ll land on your feet with this. 

“Your mom chase you out?” You swallow a sip from your cup as a cover for giving Raven the elevator look, trying to make it all super casual, right? 

You applaud yourself for not choking on your drink. The farm work definitely helped her muscle tone, and puberty did... The Rest. The curve of Raven’s hip ( _the iliac crest_ ) jutting out from how she’s leaning her weight onto one leg and back against the counter. God.

Raven replies, “Something like that,” shrugging. She looks weary, lines under her eyes, but brightens the tiniest bit as she remembers something, snapping her fingers and pointing at you. “The photos. Did you end up drawing them or whatever?”

Oh. _She remembered._ “Some of them. I’m slowly getting around to painting them all.” You hit a block with hers of course, needed at least one more with her head tilted to the side. Like now, as she looks at you with humor in her eyes. 

But you can’t really ask for another photo can you?

“It’s okay if you skip my photo. I know I just ruin the _whole_ batch.” Raven’s being sarcastic with you, because you know her self-esteem is probably a bit higher than yours. She _has_ to know how gorgeous she is. 

But either way she’s _joking_ with you and you hope you aren’t brushing too hard, because part of you wants to respond _“Raven, shut the fuck up, your cheekbones are divine”_ with no chill. But the other, more sarcastically socially appropriate response is,

“Ugh. I just might do that. That dimple? Horrible.”

Raven’s pleasantly surprised enough by the banter back that said dimple appears on her face when a laugh tumbles out of her mouth. She covers it, maybe slightly bashful.

You aren’t sure if this would happen without the drinks but God you hoped it’d start happening more often. 

Like clockwork it seems -- your corner of comfort is interrupted by Finn himself. But it _is_ a public place, and not even remotely your house so you should’ve expected it. His head pops around the corner and Raven nods at him.

“Sup?”

“We’re starting spin-the-bottle. Wanna’ join?”

You and Raven groan at the same time.

“I’m not really-,” Raven starts but gets interrupted again when Octavia storms the kitchen and seizes you by the arm--

“There’s a hot guy sitting at the circle and I need you next to me for support,” and you’re whisked out of the kitchen. You grimace at Raven who chuckles but follows slowly after Finnas well. 

You sit a little bit behind Octavia so you won’t be included in the game. Raven does something similar across from you, leaning slightly against Finn, but with a Converse dipping into the inner circle. The “hot guy”’s name is Lincoln and Bellamy scowls at him in what he must think is a subtle way. Octavia and Lincoln don’t actually end up kissing, but Lincoln’s dare is something stupidly simple 

(“I dare you to give me your number? Only if you want to though. It’s okay if--”

Octavia laughs, “I want to”).

Bellamy spins you and you get a kiss on the cheek which you fake gag at, the circle laughing. 

You however, get Finn. 

It’s a bland kiss and you keep your face completely poker, avoiding his puppy dog eye contact and any eye-contact with Raven as well. When you look up she’s looking at Finn with slightly arched eyebrows. But not “jealous girlfriend” eyebrows. It’s something you can’t place. 

“Aren’t you two dating?” Octavia blurts, then covers her mouth when Raven looks her way.

“No,” they both reply, Finn a tiny bit pouty and hesitant, Raven frank.

“Really?” You guess it’s your turn to blurt out things now. 

A mask of practiced calm sort of slides onto Raven’s face as she looks at you. She sighs. “He’s free to mack on, Griffin,” she monotones.

Uh-oh. Uhhh. “That’s not what--,” you remember there’s an audience for this conversation and you let it go, cover up your annoyance at her calling you by your last name as if you were strangers with a grumbled, “Never mind.”

Raven moves a little more behind Finn’s back to drink and the game proceeds, people getting bored and getting up to either chat with other people or just leave. It _is_ getting close to midnight. The people left in the circle are those who were just too lazy to move. Octavia and Lincoln left to the couch, Bellamy’s squinting at them from where he lays on the floor, but also looks like he’s falling asleep, head nodding then jerking back up periodically. Jasper’s talking to a girl named Maya and she’s laughing at his jokes, which must be a first for him. Harper and Monty sit next to each other and Finn’s asleep, leaving Raven unguarded. Her back is to you still. 

Harper’s still mildly alert and probably has drunk the least so you’re broken out of your stupor when she reaches over, and twists the bottle so that it’s pointing at Raven’s back. 

“It’s your turn, Clarkey,” Harper says, winking and you wonder how much she’s observed of you two. Of your...one-sided pining. 

“What? No one’s playing this anymore, Harper, “ you hiss. 

Jasper looks up from his conversation, catches eyes with Harper, then the glass bottle pointing from you to Raven, a tattle-tale compass. 

“Seven minutes in Heaven,” the boy says, “I dare you.” 

Your mouth opens and closes, nothing eeking out as you try to comprehend what’s going on-- if this is something you need to wake up from and if kicking the bottle will remedy that. 

Raven turns her head to the side and glares down at the bottle, then looks up at you. 

“Seven minutes -- Seven minutes!” Octavia crows, perched on the couch as Jasper continues chanting.

Harper bites her lip and grins as if she’d planned this. This childish peer pressure tactic. 

“Guys,” you try, but the chanting goes on. You feel your face getting really hot. You could run… but that’s not something you do as a person. You find the whole situation stupid. 

Until Raven’s pulling you up by the arm with her free hand. 

“Follow my lead, Griff’,” she mutters and walks down the hall. You follow to the drunken cheers of your friends. 

_What the hell. Whattt the hell!_

Raven opens a closet door and tugs you inside-- ignoring your yelp of protest-- and closes the door behind you both. It’s more spacious than you were expecting. But instead of crowding you in like “seven minutes” suggests (like you still giddily wanted not-so-deep down) she sits down on an overturned box. 

“They can think what they like. I just wanted some peace and quiet.”

“They can be pretty obnoxious so I doubt it would’ve stopped.” You sit down on a fallen jacket across from Raven. Her bottle is empty you notice, and catches the reflection of the orange night light in the closet. It lights up her hands and the lower part of her face like a small fire.

You’re a moth it seems because you scoot a little closer. 

“Careful, Griffin, someone might think you actually _wanted_ these seven minutes alone with _me_.”

The _“and not Finn”_ is implied. That and how she refuses to call you by your first name makes you huff out a sigh.

“Oh my God, _Reyes_. I don’t like Finn. He has all the appeal of a wet blanket, I’m sorry. I just. Thought you two were dating. That made me worried about _you_ because he’s kissed me before tonight.”

Raven blinks, chuckles. “ Well that makes two of us then.”

You blink back, shake your head. “And you still aren’t dating?” 

Raven scoffs. “It was like kissing a brother. That’s what Finn is to me, Griffin. No need to get your panties in a twist over who I do or don’t date. My mother does enough of that.” She pitches her voice high with a sneer, thickens her accent a tad, “ ‘I don’t want you hanging out with that Finn boy-- I’m not taking care of _any_ babies, comprende?’”

You suppress a laugh. “What’d you say back?”

“I said that she barely took care of me, so--”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And then she got mad and I left” She turns the bottle around in her hands to pick at the label, the orange glow sliding across her neck. “When I was working on that project with you, she got paranoid that I would tell all her ‘secrets’?”

“What?”

Raven grins, shrugs. “Talk about what she did when I was younger. She didn’t make her drinking private and she’d leave me in the house alone a lot. Of course that’s not something I actually let people know regardless. Or. Knew was even wrong until like middle school.” She laughs.

You’re quiet and she laughs again and looks at you. “What?” She pushes your shoulder. “That’s why I don’t tell people. They get sad n’ shit when really it’s just my life. Slightly off-center. _Eso que ni qué_ ,” she mumbles. “At least your mom is sane, right?”

You startle her by laughing then cover your mouth. “I’m sorry. My mom? I’ll admit I’m definitely privileged to have a mother who pays attention. But now I think she just wants me to be exactly like her.” You’re struck by a sudden heart heaviness. “It’s too much.”

Raven looks at the closet door, listening -- it’s definitely been past seven minutes-- shrugs, and turns back to you. “Tell me about it. We got time.”

You do. About how your drawing and art to Abby is “non-profitable” and Raven sets her bottle down. She looks betrayed.

“What the fuck.”

“Yeah. You probably have it worse and don’t want to hear me complaining but--”

“No, what the fuck. That doesn’t--,” she meets your eyes, shining with drunken honesty. “You’re really good at something that makes you happy. Don’t give that up. Not for anyone.”

Your heart swells -- or maybe it’s gas, you’re not sure.

“You wanna’ know the funniest part?”

“Tell me.”

“I want to major in Scientific Illustration. She’s never asked exactly what it is I want to do.” Your voice breaks a little and you clear your throat with a wry smile. “Now _you’re_ looking at me sad. It’s funny because it’s ironic.”

Raven huffs a weak laugh, looks at her fingernails. “We can only choose our friends, I guess.”

You latch onto that like a dog with a bone, leaning into her space. “Raven Reyes. Are you saying what I _think_ you are?”

“What is that you think I’m saying?” 

She looks away from you and tips the empty bottle to her lips. She smiles small and it widens to a grin when you call her an ass.

“We’re friends. Come on. Say it. It isn’t official till you do.”

Feeling bold on residual liquid courage, you wrap one arm around her shoulders then the other, perching your chin on her left, smelling vanilla. In the dimness you watch one of her neck muscles jump (When you press your chin down into her collarbone, a smile flickers as if she might be ticklish). She rolls her eyes and looks down at you, dark eyes glittering. 

“Fine. I guess we’re friends, then,” she mumbles.

You squeeze her tight and that’s what Jasper opens the door to.

“Oops. Uh. Everyone’s going home. Sorry for interrupting?”

You let go of Raven feeling a bit embarrassed but she chuckles and only spares one glance at Jasper before leaning forward. 

For a second, a moment, you look into her eyes, starry and soft-- yielding for once because of the inebriation, and you tilt your head on a buzz of a reflex.

She kisses you.

A quick peck on the lips is all it is and Jasper scampers away after it happens but you feel the tingling further down than you expect. As she leans back you pull for a quip to make it seem like you haven’t lost your cool (you’re still in shock). You mouth luckily is on autopilot, parroting some of her earlier words back, a dazed smirk stuck on your face. 

“Careful. A girl might think you wanted _all seven_ of those minutes with me.”

She stands, leans on her left leg for balance and peers down at you. She snorts. “You wish, Griff’. See you later.”

-

You feel embers in your stomach after she saunters off, all the way to the car where Octavia’s waiting, Bellamy slumped over asleep in the back seat. Monty’s car is in front of you, with Monty, Raven, and Finn climbing inside.

“So. How was it?” Octavia purrs. 

“We didn’t,” you lie. And it’s technically true. The seven minutes were way over when they did kiss and even when they kissed it wasn’t...making out or anything heavy.

Octavia eyes you skeptically, then yawns. “Right.” She revs the engine and shakes her head with a smirk.

Harper climbs into the driver’s seat of Monty’s car as Octavia backs out of the driveway. The Faux Matchmaker winks at you before closing the door. 

_It’s always the quiet ones who are evil masterminds,_ you think, leaning your head against the window and drifting off.

 

 

 

 

 

\--

( _"But wherefore do not you a mightier way_

_Make war upon this bloody tyrant Time?_

_And fortify yourself in your decay_

_With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?_

_Now stand you on the top of happy hours,_

_And many maiden gardens yet unset,_

_With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,_

_Much liker than your painted counterfeit:_

_So should the lines of life that life repair_

_Which this (Time's pencil) or my pupil pen_

_Neither in inward worth nor outward fair_

_Can make you live your self in eyes of men._

_To give away yourself, keeps your self still,_

_And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill.")_

_-Sonnet 16, Shakespeare._

_Last stanza quoted by Bellamy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo!  
> "eso que ni que" = No doubt about it.
> 
> wrote this sitting eating platanos and listening to paramore/haim lmao. slapped my mostly dead computer screen till two thirds of it turned on to type it. lol. I've written a large chunk of the chapter ahead of this so it may be a week before that one gets uploaded here. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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